Hunt and Gather - Rogue Nation featuring Skye
by ThiessenClocks
Summary: Two tickets to the opera... what if Benji had taken someone along? The events of Rogue Nation, with one crucial difference. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: The following story are the events of Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, with the slight difference that Skye is there. (If you don't know her yet, allow me to refer you to my story Dunn and Dusted). So if you're not into that, don't proceed. I just thought that if Benji gets two tickets to the opera – which he does – he would obviously take her along, thus changing what's to come, and I need this version as backstory for my next story. (By the way, regardless of how you feel about this, you might wanna stay tuned for that one.) Since I assume that anyone who ends up here knows the movie by heart anyway I skipped the scenes that wouldn't change and instead chose to fill in the gaps. Still, some scenes remain very similar, but I would really appreciate it if you gave it a chance. What concerns dialogue I stuck to the movie for reference as closely as possible, if I missed any mistakes I apologise._

 _A huge thanks to Ellster for helping me with basically everything._

 _Cheers._

* * *

 **WASHINGTON, D.C.**

"He was on the plane?" Skye asked for the second time.

"Yes," Benji said smiling.

"While it took off?"

"I'm telling you, he was. He held on to the door until I got it open."

Skye leaned back in her chair. "You're messing with me."

Benji laughed happily. "I swear, I'm not."

Skye shook her head and turned to the bar. "You know what, I'll get the drinks in. By the time I'm through that queue Brandt is gonna be here."

"Okay," Benji said. She had been gone for not even a minute, when Brandt entered. The chief analyst spotted Benji and made his way to the table. He didn't even let Benji say hello before he launched into a rapid explanation of what had happened at the hearing. The Brit just sat there, stunned, and listened.

"So we need to infiltrate the CIA," he murmured.

"I wouldn't call it infiltrating if they offer us a job, but yes, that's what it comes down to. We can't tell this to anyone. Ethan needs our help. The less people know, the better."

Benji nodded gravely.

"Not Skye either," Brandt made sure. "For Ethan's safety, and her own as well."

Benji looked at the tabletop, but nodded again.

"So," Skye suddenly came up behind them and put the drinks in front of them. "Did they make you secretary then and there or do we have to hold our congrats until it's official?"

Brandt didn't believe in sugar-coating things. "We got shut down."

Benji looked up at Skye. She looked as if someone had ripped the floor away from under her feet. Slowly she sat down. "Are you serious?"

"We're in the CIA now."

"Just like that?" Skye asked, flustered.

"No more IMF," Benji murmured.

"What about the others?" Skye wanted to know.

"I'm supposed to bring all of them in." The analyst reached for his drink.

"Even Ethan?"

"I can't reach him," Brandt said.

"We can do this," Benji said, trying to sound reassuring.

Skye hesitated, then drank half of her vodka tonic in one go. "What are we gonna do?"

Brandt shrugged. "Join the CIA."

"I mean, it's the same thing, just a little more official," Benji said.

Skye looked at him as if he had suggested to rob a bank. "It's not the same." She looked to Brandt for help.

"Field work is field work," the analyst said and drank.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Your record is impressive, Agent Holt."

Skye didn't know how she had ended up here. The fact that Director Alan Hunley himself had requested to speak to her personally for her official interview didn't improve her mood in the slightest. It was supposed to be a compliment, an honour even, but at IMF, especially since she'd gotten to know Brandt better, they had spent the past year hating on Hunley and his thought-to-be-hollow threats of shutting them down. She couldn't believe this was really happening.

"Thank you," she heard herself reply in a flat voice.

Hunley leafed through a file, pretending to read. "A lot of protection jobs. Close collaboration with the Witness Protection Programme."

"That is correct, sir."

"You started out in Extractions. Kept going back to it between missions. You're really good at it."

"I prefer the field work, sir," Skye said firmly.

"I would like to make you an offer, Agent Holt. The position of Head of Extractions is open at the moment."

Skye blinked, waiting for him to finish.

"Think about it. A leading position at Langley. As a woman at that."

"What's that supposed to mean, sir?" Skye asked.

"Think it over. I expect an answer by the end of the week. You may go now."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Skye was fuming. "What a fucking prick."

"Maybe you should try and calm down a bit," Benji suggested carefully.

"Who does he think he is?!" she went on, undeterred. "Takes away all of our jobs, putting agents – putting every ongoing mission at risk! People are dying out there right now because there's no one to back them up, because IMF doesn't exist any more! It's Ghost Protocol all over again, just worse. And Hunley knows exactly what he's doing and isn't even ashamed. I don't know why we're going along with this."

"Well..." for a moment Benji looked like he was about to say something. Then he shrugged and repeated Brandt's words. "Field work is field work." It sounded foreign, coming from him.

"Oh, yes?" Skye said. "Except he didn't offer me field work. He offered me Extractions."

"What?"

"I've seen CIA exits, they're sloppy, and at the same time full of regulations that don't apply to us. They're lacking our means, it's a completely different MO. I have no desire to be part of that, no matter how _salvageable_ I am." She took a deep breath and tried to break through her rage. "What did he offer you?"

"Computer analyst," Benji admitted.

Skye huffed full of bitterness. "See. They don't trust us. They pretend they take us on as 'valuable additions' to their oh-so-great agency, but really they just want us off the road. Put us in an office so that we're neatly out of the way. I can't believe they're thinking we're gonna do this. I talked to Luther earlier, he didn't even show up for the interview."

"Actually," Benji began and braced himself, "I took him up on the offer."

Skye paused. She was quiet for so long that Benji got uncomfortable. "You took the job?"

"Yes." He looked into her eyes, trying to see if she was mad. But she just looked surprised. Utterly surprised. Dumbstruck.

"But... why?"

Benji shrugged. "It's..." He looked thoughtful. Then he looked directly at Skye. "It's stability. It means staying in one place for once. Being able to make plans for next week. Fixed work hours. Time to be with you."

Skye wasn't prepared for this. "But you love the field."

Benji looked sheepish as he pushed his hands into his pockets. "I also love you."

Skye didn't know what to say.

It was twenty past two in the morning and Skye was still awake. She was thinking. Thinking and thinking and thinking and hating herself for every single one of her thoughts. Still they kept her awake. Hunley's words kept revolving around in her head. Back to a desk job. She'd just known that would happen. Why had she let them talk her out of leaving? Hadn't she sworn to herself that no one, especially not a man, would ever keep her from doing the thing she loved?

To her right, Benji sighed in his sleep and rolled onto his side.

Right. That had been before Benji had come along. Skye's gaze broke loose from the ceiling that was dimly illuminated by the lights of the city below, and turned her head to look at him. The ruffles in his shirt over his back. His calm breathing, the only movement visible. She could have stretched out her hand and touched his hair.

Skye felt like she was about to cry when she turned away from him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Benji cheerfully unlocked the door to his flat, somehow managing to do this without letting go of the Chinese food he'd picked up on the way home. That would surely cheer Skye up. If there was one thing she could not withstand, it was spring rolls. Grinning at the thought, he finally stepped through the door, only to be met with the unexpected sight of his girlfriend's jacket hanging in its place. Then his grin grew only wider. It wouldn't have been the first time that they had the same idea. He stepped inside, kicked off his shoes, dropped the keys and the food on the table and went into the bedroom, where he'd heard her rummaging.

Benji stopped short in the door frame.

"What are you doing?"

Skye hurled around, which was more than discomforting. Usually she heard everything, and he hadn't exactly tried to enter his own apartment silently. Still she seemed surprised at him coming home early. More than that, she looked awfully – caught.

"Skye?" he asked, a bit of an alarmed edge in his voice when saw that she was emptying her drawer. She'd never had much at his place, but over the months a few things had gathered up in each other's flat after all, so Benji had cleared her a space. Now everything had wandered into the small black sports bag that set on the bed, and Skye had been about to put one last shirt inside before his appearance had caused her to freeze in mid-movement.

"I -" she started, but broke off again. Her face tensed. Then, with one quick gesture, she slammed the shirt into the bag and zipped it shut before she slung it over her shoulder.

"Skye, what's going on?" Benji still hadn't moved from his position in the door, a slight feeling of horror washing over him that made his voice tremble although nothing had happened yet.

She slowly took the few steps that lay between them until she stood close enough to have to look up in order to meet his eyes. "I can't do this, Benji."

He was about to say something but she immediately cut him off.

"I can't go back to a desk job just like that. That's not – I just can't. I've talked to Luther. He's still in town, but he's all set for the Caribbean. He's offered me to come with him."

A million things to say rushed through Benji's head, but all of them wanting to be said at once he ended up speechless. She looked as if she might add something, but then pushed past him without another word. He noticed that she tried to avoid looking at him directly.

"Skye, wait!" He finally snapped out of it and rushed after her when she was already close to the front door. He grabbed her wrist, which made her not only stop, but also turn around to him. "Please."

"I have to, Benji."

"Why? Why do you think you have to run off like this?"

"Because I don't want to sit behind a desk for ever! The IMF is gone and it's not gonna come back. I don't know how you can stand this, but I can't. I want the field work. And that's not going to happen if I stay."

"But isn't this a bit – impetuous?"

"Do you think this is easy for me?" She attempted to get free, but Benji held on to her.

"Doesn't this mean anything to you?"

"Doesn't field work mean anything to you? I don't understand, Benji. You love the field, what was all the stuff about finally being out there about if you throw it away like this?"

"This – this is important to me."

"Why?" she asked, desperate to understand. "What is so important about working for the CIA? What's so great about Hunley that you give everything up?"

Benji was dying to tell her. Everything in him screamed to just say it. "What – because – sometimes you just have to make sacrifices."

She shook her head. "Sacrifices for what, Benji?"

He was running out of things to say, and also getting increasingly desperate.

"You know, I thought this was what we were all about," she picked up again, more softly than before. "That we don't have to lie to each other about what we do. But I'm not buying this, there's something you're not telling me."

Again, he didn't have an answer. He felt like a fish, opening and closing his mouth again. His grip softened, but she didn't pull her hand away.

"I've been thinking," Skye said. "Look... maybe we just don't work out, actually being in the same place all the time."

"What?" he breathed.

"Think about it, we've been apart for weeks on end when we were away on missions and now were crammed together for the first time..."

Benji could feel that she didn't believe this herself. "Crammed together, that's nonsense. Of course we work out."

"Not if you won't talk to me."

He needed to steer away from the topic or he would cave this moment. "Why are you even so mad about a bit of paper work? It's not like you owe anyone to stay in the field."

Skye's eyes narrowed dangerously. She got her arm free for a second, then Benji had already caught her again, realising the grave mistake he'd made.

"Skye, please, I'm sorry," he begged, and looked into her eyes. Those lovely brown eyes that turned green sometimes. "Please don't go."

There was something in her glance, and he was almost sure he saw tears welling up in her eyes. Her jaw trembled for an instant when she said, her voice quiet but surprisingly firm, "Let go of me, Benji."

He opened his mouth, but again no words were coming out. Their eyes were still locked, and when he reluctantly loosened the grip on her wrist, his were swimming as well. She ripped her hand away before he'd entirely let go, and it hurt him more than anything. Skye quickly turned away, grabbed her jacket, and with the slam of the door, tears ran down his cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

Benji sat at his desk and stared blankly at the centre monitor out of the three in front of him. He wasn't entirely sure why he had shown up for work. He'd thought it was maybe a good idea to get out of his apartment where everything reminded him of Skye. The mad thing was, everything reminded him of her around here as well. At home he would at least have had the Chinese take-away that had grown cold the other day once he had spotted that she'd left her keys. That had done it. That one little thing had triggered thinking of all of the other little things. He should have known that Skye wouldn't just go back to work in extractions, especially not for Hunley and the CIA. But what was he supposed to have done? He should have told her, that's what. If anyone could be trusted to be on their side, it was her. But he'd blown it. He had stupidly hoped that he would be enough to hold her here. And now she was gone. He'd never again wake up in that cosy little flat of hers that always smelled of fresh bread. He'd never hear her sing AC/DC in the shower any more. He'd never watch _Firefly_ again after one of them had woken from a nightmare and neither wanted to go back to sleep. He'd never hear her laugh at one of his jokes again which miraculously enough charmed that beautiful smile on her face. Never again he would -

"Mr. Dunn?"

He looked up at the dark-haired woman standing in front of his desk.

"Director Hunley would like to see you in the conference room. Right away."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Before he knew it, Benji was set up for a polygraph for no apparent reason. He hadn't had the strength to ask what the hell this was about more than once, and the woman who had brought him here and subsequently connected him to her laptop did not seem to have much of a mind for answering his question. What did he care anyway. As far as he was concerned, they could do to him whatever they wanted.

Director Hunley strode in, and somewhere far away in Benji a certain rage was stirred. That man had some part in taking Skye away from him. But really, he just wanted to be somewhere else, alone, preferably in the dark, with lots of Mars bars – oh god, Mars bars. Shit. _Everything_ reminded him of Skye. With clenched teeth, he swallowed his tears.

"You'll be asked a series of control questions that you will answer truthfully," the woman explained. "After that I will ask you to lie intentionally."

"Why?" Benji asked weakly.

"In order to see if the -"

"If you value your current position, Agent Dunn, you will comply." Hunley remained standing.

Benji didn't value very much right now. Still, what was the point. What was the point in anything, really. He was just through the questions, when Brandt stormed into the conference room. When the analyst saw that Hunley was already present, he straightened, and nodded curtly at the director. "Sir."

Hunley nodded back without looking at Brandt, therefore missing the worried glance the analyst threw Benji when he approached.

"Where is Ethan Hunt?" Hunley began without preamble.

Not that he had expected anything, but it certainly hadn't been this.

"I beg your pardon?"

The woman's eyes remained fixed on the computer screen with Benji's vitals.

"You understood me well enough. We're almost sure he has a contact within our rows, so I'm going to ask you again: Where is Ethan Hunt?"

Something inside of Benji snapped. Ethan. Not Hunley. This was all Ethan's fault. If he hadn't decided to track this stupid underground network or whatever the hell it was he'd gotten himself into this time, and if he hadn't dragged him and Brandt into this, deciding to keep it all this giant bloody secret, then Skye would still be here. Then none of this would have happened. Suddenly, he got mad.

"What are you asking me for?"

"You've worked with him in the past."

"So have a lot of other people. I have no idea where he is, and frankly I don't want to know."

"We have reason to believe-"

"You have reason to believe, what, exactly? That I am helping the one man who could clear up all of this mess, risking my job in the process? If it wasn't for Ethan Hunt, then a lot of things around here would go _much_ easier, so I have no intention _whatsoever_ of feeling in any way obliged to _help_ him."

He had gotten increasingly louder, and while Hunley managed to keep his face mostly clear of his surprise, Brandt couldn't help looking a bit taken aback by Benji's drastic reaction.

"Now if you'd be so kind to let me get back to my work, for if I may – if it wasn't for me the whole department wouldn't meet its monthly quotas. However the hell they managed that before you _salvaged_ me."

The woman, slightly startled, simply nodded when Hunley looked at her, confirming the steady green line on the screen.

"You're free to go, Agent Dunn."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Okay, what was that?" Brandt asked when he had caught up with Benji in the corridor where the coast was clear. He'd tried to warn his friend as soon as he'd heard about the scheduled polygraph, and had secretly been convinced that everything would come to light now, hence the way Benji had handled it had more than surprised him.

The Brit didn't stop. "She's gone."

Brandt wasn't sure he'd gotten that right, when Benji did jerk to a halt. "She left, Brandt. Yesterday."

"Skye left you?" He instantly regretted his words when his friend winced slightly, but nodded. "Shit," he said, and then, when the full extent of this dawned on him, he repeated it. "Shit."

Benji nodded again. Slowly they continued down the hallway.

"She went with Luther. He's offered her to come with him. I didn't listen to her, Brandt. I didn't realise how serious this was for her, not being in the field anymore. I mean, I knew it, because of... but I didn't – realise just _how_ important-" he broke off, realising that he was rambling, and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Did you try to call her?"

"Of course I tried," he said exasperatedly. "Her phone's turned off, and ever since this whole CIA mess happened Luther is virtually unreachable. If he doesn't want to be found there's nothing I can do. I tried her at home, but she wasn't there. For all I know she could be halfway to Cuba already." Benji's voice trailed off.

"Cuba?"

The techie shrugged. "Or wherever else in the Caribbean. I don't even know where they're headed."

Brandt put a hand on his shoulder. Secretly he thought this was incredible luck, because how else should Benji have mastered that unexpected questioning, but instantly he hated himself for the thought alone. This was horrible. And part of it was most likely his fault by not wanting to let Skye in on this.

"I should have told her," Benji whispered as if he had read the analyst's thoughts. "She left her keys."

"Shit," he said again, because he couldn't think of a more adequate response. "I'm sorry, man."

"I'm gonna go home," Benji said quietly after a bit of a pause.


	3. Chapter 3

With every step she climbed something increasingly heavy seemed to weigh down on her. But she didn't have another choice. She had to do this. Screw the fact that it was past midnight, that she had most likely destroyed the best thing she'd ever had in her life for the most stupid reason.

She knocked. The second worst part was done.

No answer came. Of course. He'd be asleep. Maybe he wasn't even in. But she didn't dare to ring the door bell. She'd just come back tomorrow. Or never.

Skye was already back at the top of the staircase when the door behind her opened. She turned around. Benji stood there, strangely expressionless, in sweatpants and his grey sweatshirt jacket.

"Hi," she got out, and thought she deserved the thin sound of it. "I, um -" She probably should just turn around and leave after all. That weird non-reacting air he had, hand still on the door, ready to close it in her face any time, was killing her. He was way better off without her, someone who'd just leave him in the face of a stupid job that didn't suit her – tears entered her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time since she'd last left that flat three days ago. "I didn't leave," she stated the obvious.

Benji still didn't say anything, and suddenly it broke out of her.

"I'm so sorry, Benji. I wasn't thinking. I don't know what I – I couldn't board that plane." She stopped for a second to keep herself from crying, but it got harder by the sentence. "I sorted things out with Hunley. They actually took me back. So... if you ever..." Now she couldn't stop the tears escaping her. "I know I have no right to ask you to forgive me, but I just wanted you to know that I'm staying. If this really is what you want, then I..." Her voice broke. Benji's hand had let go of the door, but other than that he hadn't reacted in any way. "I'm sorry," she managed to say once more. Then, after one last look at him, she turned away, ready to descend the stairs.

"Have you been out like this?"

The familiarity of his voice sent up new tears in her. She had missed him so much that it hurt. She looked down at herself, her trainers, her jeans, her short-sleeved blouse that weren't made for a cold night in D.C., before she slowly turned back to him. "Well, I was kind of set for the Caribbean," she said in a very small voice.

Without another word, Benji stepped out into the hallway, took off his jacket and put it round her shoulders, gently tugging it in place, and pulling it closed in front of her chest while simultaneously pulling her closer. "You're staying?" he asked, and only now she saw that he was on the edge himself.

She only managed to nod, before he drew her in an embrace. The last of her tears ran down her face and got caught by Benji's shirt. Only this time they were out of relief. "I'm so sorry," she said again and again against his chest, while he buried his nose in her hair, still holding her tightly.

"I'm sorry, too. I was an idiot, I shouldn't have said what I said. It was stupid."

She took a deep breath in order to get a grip on herself. "You're worth a thousand CIA jobs, Benji."

They stayed like this for a while, until Benji suddenly started laughing. "Look at us," he said chuckling, wiping his eye with the back of his hand before proceeding to Skye's tears in a more gentle manner.

She had to chuckle as well, although it came out half a sob, but she was smiling.

"Come here," he said, and pulled her closer again before he kissed her. Gently at first, but then both of them became aware of their three-day deprivation of that.

Skye tasted ice cream. "Chocolate?" she asked, when her lips were just barely not touching his anymore.

"Do you wanna come in? I got lots more inside."

They smiled at each other, then Benji suddenly became aware of something.

"Um, one thing. We gotta be quiet. I got Brandt asleep on the sofa."

Skye raised an eyebrow. "Brandt?"

"He stopped by with a bottle of scotch. I kind of was in a bad shape."

She immediately looked guilty again, but he smiled at her and nudged her shoulder, until she smiled back. A second later the door shut behind the two of them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Brandt's inner alarm clock insisted it was time to wake up, but the rest of him was so caught up in the haziness of sleep that his eyes refused to open. He heard a door, footsteps, another door, and then water running. Slowly, he opened his eyes. For a second he wondered where he was, because this wasn't his office – or, god forbid, his apartment – but then he realised he was still at Benji's place. A near empty bottle of scotch came into focus. With a slight groan, Brandt sat up. While the techie had been grateful when he had shown up at his doorstep, Brandt had ended up drinking the majority of its contents while listening to Benji's ramblings. They had discussed Skye, and Ethan, and the CIA, until they were both sick of it and Benji had put on _Pacific Rim_. At some point Brandt must had fallen asleep.

More awake now, Brandt got up. There were still noises coming from the bathroom, so he decided to check the kitchen for coffee. He stopped short at the door.

"Morning," Benji said over his shoulder when he saw him. "Coffee?"

"Please," the analyst replied and took the offered mug. After the first sip, it occurred to him. "Wait. You're here."

"Yes?" Benji said.

"Then who..." Brandt pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

"Right, so..." Benji began, when Skye already joined them.

"Good morning," she said to Brandt and smiled.

Benji put an arm around her and kissed her forehead.

Brandt wasn't sure what to say, but his facial expression must have betrayed his anxiety about what this meant. He couldn't even feel his frown anymore. Over the past weeks it had become part of his face. "So you guys...?"

"She came back last night," Benji said. The analyst wasn't sure when he'd last seen him this happy. The contrast was drastic. "After you fell asleep."

"Don't worry," Skye said unexpectedly seriously. "I already told Benji last night. I don't know anything and I'm not gonna ask." She paused. "I trust you."

Brandt emptied his coffee despite its soaring temperature to bite back any remarks or frustrated sighs. This could get funny.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

 **HAVANNA, CUBA**

"It's the best hardware I could get short notice," Ethan apologised.

"It'll do," Luther said.

Ethan turned away to let his friend work in peace. He looked briefly out of the window, at colourful cars from long-past decades going by, before he turned to the wall. It wasn't quite finished yet, and at times he worried it might be a bit too on the nose, but this was after all the CIA. Better to make sure.

Luther placed the battered phone carefully on the shelf. "Try the sync again."

Ethan turned away from the world map plastered with newspaper headlines and photos from the files Benji had uploaded to the secret server. He sat down at the laptop and refreshed. This time it worked, the camera transmitted directly. "Perfect, thank you."

"And you're sure about this, brother?"

"By the time they find this place I'll be two steps ahead already. You'll plant the intel that will lead them here, that's probably gonna take them another couple of weeks." He looked at his friend's raised eyebrows. "Don't worry," Ethan added emphatically.

Luther sighed. "So how much of a head start do you want?"


	4. Chapter 4

**WASHINGTON, D.C.**

"Benji?" Skye murmured into the dark.

"Don't worry, it's me," came the response as he got into bed next to her. "Go back to sleep."

"Sleep," she mumbled with some irony. She still hadn't moved or opened her eyes and seemed to have no intention of doing so. "When you hear someone entering who could be anyone wearing a mask."

He kissed her forehead. "It's me, feather."

Skye sighed and got closer. "I'm not yet used to this."

Despite spending the night together at their respective flats in turn for almost the entirety of their relationship, this suddenly felt different. Skye and Benji had moved in together. They had played with the idea before, but with missions going on and never knowing when they would have the time, the plan had never come to fruition. Now that wasn't an issue anymore, and since Skye craved distraction from the fact that she was working for the CIA now, she had thrown herself into the move with everything she had. Organised a realtor and scheduled viewings, and before Benji knew it they had fallen for a nice flat and were packing their stuff into cardboard boxes.

Coming home felt different now. Better than before.

Benji smiled. "What would you do if I was someone wearing a mask?" he asked after a while, suddenly interested. He half expected not to get a reply anymore, but Skye's nose nudged into his shoulder when she answered.

"Right now I can think of five ways to incapacitate you." Her voice was soft and sleepy. "Six, if I can get the window open."

Benji swallowed. "Maybe we should think of a codeword."

She chuckled for a second and let her hand slide under his shirt, tracing the muscles of his flat stomach – not enough to overly show, but certainly enough to be felt. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"Ben?" she asked when he thought she'd already dosed off again.

"Ooh, that sounds serious."

"Just promise me to be careful."

Benji swallowed. "What do you mean?"

Skye moved slightly, and he turned his head to meet her eyes.

"You helping Ethan."

He opened his mouth, ready to disagree and counter her, but when an adequate response finally popped into his head, he knew the pause had already been long enough to confirm whatever suspicions she might have.

"Benji, I'm not stupid," she continued. "They cut me off from looking at anything that concerns the Special Activities Division, which isn't normal considering I'm supposed to be leading Extractions, meaning they don't trust me. I know Ethan was on to something before he disappeared. Ever since the CIA has labelled him as a wanted fugitive for classified reasons. And not even he can hide this long from someone as determined as Hunley without any help. Also there's not many people you would accept a Windows phone for."

Benji took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. "Skye... I can't just-"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not telling you to stop. I don't doubt that Ethan needs you. Just don't get caught."

He looked back at her. "You're incredible."

She smiled. "Do I get the whole story now?"

Benji sighed. "Do you remember when you said I was worth a thousand CIA jobs?"

"Yes?"

"Just keep that in mind."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"...and the best part is, Hunley decided to make the polygraphs a weekly thing. The next one is scheduled for tomorrow, and I have no idea how to get out of it," Benji finished his report of what was going on, by now sitting cross-legged on crumpled blankets.

"Are you sure that Hunley is on to you?" Skye was sitting up as well, facing her boyfriend while leaning against the wall.

"Not necessarily, but I guess Ethan ditched them one time too often for him to keep believing that it's chance. He's less suspicious of Brandt, fortunately, but I'm guessing he's gonna wait for me to break."

"Then don't break," she said simply.

"How? How am I supposed to beat a polygraph every seven days?"

"For god's sake, you're still a trained field agent. You can withstand interrogation, you're better than some ditsy CIA polygraph." She nudged his shoulder and elicited a smile. "Okay, look. Generally there's two ways to beat a polygraph."

Expectantly, Benji raised his eyebrows.

"Either you're a good enough liar. Or you tell the truth. I mean, you've done it before, how did you beat it last time?"

Benji looked at the ceiling. "I told the truth."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Skye hated being stuck in one place, and Benji knew that. She loved the field agent life, never knowing where you end up next, which country you'll be in tomorrow. She needed it. Which made the fact that he had confined her to D.C. the worst thing he could have done to her – and the fact that she had stayed the biggest possible proof of her affection. She kept quiet about it, never voiced her discomfort for the sake of her pride and his guilt, and kept herself busy with making the new flat their home. But by now every carpet was rolled out, their bookshelf was assorted and the last plates were sorted into cupboards. There was nothing left to do except practising for polygraphs.

Benji knew how unhappy she secretly was. Precisely the reason why he was looking forward to bringing her good news.

"What brings you up here?" Skye said when she saw him enter her department.

"How's it going?" he asked cheerfully.

Skye sighed. "Do you remember Crover?"

"Yeah? What about him?"

"These people make me miss him."

Benji smiled. "Bad day?"

Skye shrugged, slightly annoyed. "The usual. Some moustache tried to chat me up, and everyone hates me because I'm new and their boss. But what are you gonna do. How was the polygraph?"

"Pretty good. I tried royalty this time."

"Denmark?"

"Norway."

"Nice."

He smiled. "Anyway, today is about to get a lot better."

Skye raised her eyebrows.

Benji showed her the two tickets in his hand.

Skye tilted her head to read. "Vienna?"

"That opera magazine you always make fun of sent me those as a thank you for my subscription," he said teasingly. "We leave on Friday. I already booked our flight."

Skye was already hugging him before he could finish the sentence. "That's amazing!"

"It's just for the weekend. And you'll have to sit through an opera with me. But I feel like it's exactly what we need."

"Yes, it is," Skye agreed, and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

It was so good to see her smile.

* * *

 _Author's Note: All right, enough with the fluff now, shit is about to get real. Thanks for being so patient, and for the reviews, it means the world to me!_


	5. Chapter 5

**VIENNA, AUSTRIA**

Leo finished the last chords of _Radioactive_ and enjoyed the look the girl who had stopped to listen gave him. He gave her a dazzling smile and thanked her when she let a couple of coins clatter into the empty guitar case at his feet before she continued down the street. He looked after her for a second, then he bent down and scooped up today's earnings to make room for his beloved instrument. It was getting chilly, and he had enough for today anyway. Besides, technically he should be at home studying, but being a street musician was simply too much fun – and a nice source of additional income for his student life. He was already close to being broke again, and the month was barely half over. He had just shouldered the case when out of nowhere a man materialised in front of him. Automatically Leo took a step back.

"Not bad," the man said. His German sounded foreign, but he couldn't quite place the accent.

"Thanks," Leo replied pleasantly and started towards the escalator that lead down to the underground. To his slight bemusement, the man followed him.

"Would you be interested in making some money?"

Leo eyed him doubtfully. The man had black hair, was middle-aged and slightly smaller than him, and was wearing a light coat. He sounded friendly, as if they were sharing some secret, and there was something boyish in his features. Still, Leo wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I'm good, thanks," he said.

"One hundred bucks."

Leo stopped short. "Why would you give me one hundred bucks?"

"I need a delivery to be made, only I can't do it myself."

The street artist frowned. "No, thanks. I don't want anything to do with any weird shit."

"Two hundred. Cash."

Leo's eyes grew wide at the bank notes the guy suddenly held out to him, he couldn't help it. He sure could use two hundred euros. "A delivery you say?"

The man grinned winningly, and pulled a big envelope out from under his coat. Leo could see he was wearing a black suit and tie under it. "It's very simple."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Skye took her time getting ready. Which meant she needed fifteen instead of the standard ten minutes. She didn't know how Benji could just... stop being a secret agent. Maybe it was because he hadn't been in the field as long as she had. But somehow she doubted that. She was trying, she really was, but when she had a last look in the mirror, Skye realised that she just couldn't shake it off. The strategically placed curl that covered a non-existent plug in her ear. The fact that she did not require a bag because this was one of her IMF-issue dresses and had all sorts of invisible pockets. The strap around her thigh, hidden under the loose fabric. She sighed, and left the ensuite of their hotel room.

Benji was straightening his bow tie in front of the small mirror on the wall. He looked striking in his tuxedo. When he saw her reflection, he turned around.

Aware of his attention, Skye turned on the spot to showcase her deep-red floor-length dress from all angles. A thin white border mimicked a belt around her waist.

"You look amazing," Benji said once he found his voice. It had been a while since they had dressed up together.

"You cleaned up nicely yourself," she said and smiled at him. She stepped closer and touched his lapel to brush away some dust that wasn't there.

His hands landed on her hips, were the red fabric hugged her curves before flaring out into a loose skirt. He trailed his fingers over its smooth texture, and suddenly didn't care anymore about being on time, or making it for the opera at all.

"Benji..." she warned.

"Mh?" he asked innocently.

"Come on, it's time," Skye said gently.

He made a disappointed sound, prompting her to laugh.

"I'm not gonna listen to you complaining how we _almost_ got to see _Turandot_ for the rest of my life," she chuckled. "You got the tickets?"

Benji smiled back and nodded. She was right, and after the show they would have all the time in the world before they had to return to D.C. That still seemed very far away. He was in high spirits.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

A smile crept on Benji's face once they were on the tube towards Karlsplatz. "I just realised we could have taken a taxi."

"Paper trail," Skye reminded him gently.

Benji shrugged. "So what?"

Skye blinked. "Right..."

"This is it."

They left the underground, dressed up as they were among the other passengers. Benji was in a splendid mood and couldn't stop smiling. It felt good to be somewhere else, to dress up a little, almost like back in the field on some mi-

Someone ran straight into Benji, pressing a large-format envelope into his hands. He flinched under the unexpected contact and tumbled against Skye. The whole thing happened so fast that the Brit couldn't see the face of the guy, hidden under the hood of a sweatshirt-jacket as it was. He barely registered that he was carrying a guitar case. It was out of sheer reflex that he held on to the envelope.

Benji looked after the guy, but he was already lost in the crowd. Then he looked at Skye, and the expression in her eyes – apprehensive, expectant, hopeful – was enough. He felt it too. Benji opened the package and looked into the contents of the brown paper envelope. He brought a programme of _Turandot_ to light, followed by a black pair of glasses and two silvery earrings. Without exchanging a word, he gave the earrings to Skye.

Recognising the model she pressed her thumb to the flat surface. _Holt, Skye T._ flashed over it for a second when the fingerprint registered, and she quickly attached them to her earlobes.

Benji had already put on the glasses which had scanned his retinas in the same scheme of identity confirmation.

" _Welcome to Vienna, you two. Miss me?"_ a very much familiar voice sounded in their ears.

Benji couldn't control himself. "Ethan, where are you? Where the hell have you been?"

Then he immediately interrupted himself. "No, actually, you know what, don't tell me that, because it's just another thing I will have to lie about in my weekly polygraph."

"We have to keep going," Skye murmured and gently nudged his arm, very aware of the fact that they stood in the middle of the platform in not exactly inconspicuous attire, apparently talking to thin air.

Benji went along, trying to absorb some of her calm.

" _Everything's going to be fine,"_ Ethan continued. _"But make sure you're not being followed."_

Benji was struck by a realisation. "I didn't win those opera tickets, did I."

" _No, I'm afraid not."_

"So where do we meet?" he asked, stepping on the escalator going upwards.

" _We don't."_

"What do you mean?" Skye asked.

" _You have mail,"_ Ethan said instead of a reply, and at the same time their phones emitted soft pings.

Skye reached into the neckline of her dress and retrieved the device. The file they had both received was a sketch of a man wearing glasses with a narrow mouth and narrow eyes.

"Who is he?" Benji asked.

" _That's what we're here to find out. What I do know is he's our only possible link to the Syndicate. And I have reason to believe he's going to be here tonight. But I can't find him alone. Are you in?"_

"Of course we're in," Skye said at once. "What do you need us to do?"

" _Simple: Benji finds him, you tag him, I follow him wherever he goes."_

"And after that?" Benji asked.

" _After that you're on a plane. Back at work Monday morning, no one is the wiser."_

Benji didn't hide his disappointment. "What – that's it?"

" _You're in enough danger as it is,"_ Ethan explained calmly. _"I didn't want to involve you this much, but I had no choice."_

"Well, if you're gonna bring us all this way you could at least give us something a bit more, you know, dramatic."

" _Benji, we're trying to keep a low profile,"_ Ethan reminded him.

Skye smiled involuntarily.

" _You want drama? Go to the opera."_

The Vienna State Opera looked amazing, illuminated by hidden spotlights against the dark sky, dominating the view the pair got as they ascended the final escalator from the underground station. As they crossed the street, they exchanged a fatal glance – and quickly looked away again in order to keep themselves from succumbing to a fit of laughter. This was serious after all. But also very exciting.

A few police cars were parked along the perimeter. People with cameras stood at the ready. Benji noticed someone getting out of a black limousine before they had to proceed through the metal detector. Extra security measures, police, journalists, fancy car – Benji looked again, and it finally clicked. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

" _Yes, I am."_

"Am I correct in assuming that is the chancellor of Austria?"

" _Yes, you are."_

"Did you know he was gonna be here?" Benji went on as they went up the stairs. He offered Skye his arm to look more – well, normal. Just a normal couple on a nice night out to see an opera. Sure.

" _No,"_ Ethan said heavily.

"Right, well, we have a European head of state here at the same time as we are looking for a nefarious terrorist, and I am sure the two things are completely unrelated."

" _Benji."_

"Meanwhile I will try and overlook the fact that you're an international fugitive wanted by the CIA."

" _Benji."_

"And that this little unsanctioned operation is tantamount to treason."

" _Benji."_

"Because, as you stated earlier, I will be back on my desk on Monday morning, playing video games, and no one will be any the-"

"Benjamin," Skye interjected pointedly. "We're going to do this."

The message was clear. No one would take this from her, not the chancellor, not the CIA, and no lowly boyfriend either.

" _Thank you, Skye,"_ Ethan said. _"Just take your position, tell me what you see."_

"Copy that," she said.

" _Red looks great on you, by the way."_

Both she and Benji turned around, scanning the crowd and the gallery above them, but Ethan was nowhere to be seen. Of course not. He had spent the last six months running. Maybe they were a bit rusty after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Skye listened to the chatter coming from her right earring after they had split up.

" _Join the IMF... see the world... on a monitor. In a closet,"_ Benji mumbled. _"Okay, I have eyes. Searching."_

She paced at the back of the auditorium, scanning the audience from behind, bathed in half-light from the stage. Dressed in red she seemed to blend into the elegant carpet and the seats. Her gaze travelled upwards along the boxes, half in shadow.

" _Talk to me, Benji..."_

" _Nothing yet, stand by."_

" _I know you're here... Where are you..."_ Ethan whispered to himself.

"Ethan, I worry about the chancellor," Skye said, eyeing the box he and his wife were in. Very visible places with only one exit - the nightmare of every protection job. "I'll keep an eye on him."

" _Copy,"_ Hunt said.

Skye left the auditorium and made her way upstairs. She could still hear the singers on stage, just muffled now.

" _Uh, Ethan, I might have something for you. Can't confirm."_

" _Where?"_

" _Backstage, I'll direct you."_ There was a pause. _"Take the door on your left. He should be right in front of you."_

Skye made her way around the curving corridor that provided access to the boxes.

" _Benji, did you see that?"_

" _See what?"_

" _The woman."_

" _What woman? Where are you, I can't see you."_

Skye hesitated at the door. She couldn't go in without explanation. And she would almost certainly be noticed. Should she just stay here, ready to act once she heard something? She felt cool metal on her thigh, underneath her dress, slightly warmed due to the proximity to her skin.

The radio crackled. Skye thought it would break up, but then Benji's voice came through in short bursts. _"...than, come in... the lighting booth... copy?"_

Lighting booth. "I'm coming," she said, hoping they received, and headed for the nearest staircase.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Skye ripped the door open. Two operators were in the corner, a man and a woman, one on the ground, one still in his seat, possibly dead, hopefully just unconscious. A man stood with his back to her, tall, in a dark blue police uniform, holding a rifle aimed at the stage, ready to pull the trigger. The shot went off, muffled to a hiss of air by the silencer. Skye didn't waste a second. Silent as a cat she paced towards the man and had her arm across his throat before he could shoot again. He dropped the weapon in surprise, but immediately started putting up a fight, holding on to the woman's arm, trying to throw her off. Skye's feet left the ground.

On stage, the _Nessun Dorma_ went on undisturbed. It felt surreal.

Holt tried to land a punch, but instead of fighting like a man he just crossed the distance between them and the wall and pinned the agent against it with all of his body weight. It knocked the breath out of her.

The door flew open again. In a flurry of black and white, Benji threw himself against the gunman, successfully knocking him away from Skye. She fell to the floor and tried to breathe while Benji landed another punch. The gunman seemed unimpressed, pushed Benji against the wall much like Skye before him and swung his fist at him again. Benji dodged it, so that the punch connected with the wall instead.

Skye was back on her feet. She had retrieved her knife and did not hesitate to ram it into the man's side. For the first time during the fight he cried out when she pulled the blade back out. Skye backed away, anticipating his next move. He turned on the spot, trying to reach the injury, standing in the middle of the room between the window and Benji.

Suddenly he sagged down. Benji flinched when the bullet hit the wall right next to his own head. He looked at the stage, where the shot must have originated and saw a flicker of bright yellow dress. Having no time to think, he scrambled over the dead body and pushed up the switches controlling the stage lights, effectively blinding any shooter out there. The next second Skye grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the booth, out of the shooter's line of sight, into the corridor – into safety. In the same motion Benji felt her turn him and next thing he knew his back was against the wall again. He was about to ask what the hell was wrong now, when he suddenly felt Skye's lips on his. His eyes fluttered shut in surprise when she tugged his collar to get him closer. The fabric of her dress felt heavenly smooth under his hands when they went over her body until settling somewhere on her back. The kiss didn't last long enough, and he bent down further when she drew away, reflexively attempting to keep their faces close.

"Let's get out of here," she said, and he could feel her breath hot on his skin. Still, it got him back to reality, which he had temporarily left.

"Yeah," he breathed. His heart was beating insanely fast, but it didn't have anything to do with the fact that someone had just tried to shoot him anymore.

She hadn't kissed him like that in months.

"He was aiming at the chancellor, I saw it on the video feed," he updated her between panted breaths as Skye led him down staircases and along corridors. "Where are we going?"

"I'm hoping for an access point to the parking garage," she answered quickly. "But first of all, out. If he hit him, they're gonna lock this place down."

"Ethan," Benji said concerned.

Skye nodded. "We're gonna need a car."

Benji pushed her into a door when he heard people running close behind them. It wasn't locked. He trusted his instinct and shoved both of them inside. They peeked through the crack he left open, heard rushed voices, German.

"That's the chancellor," Benji whispered flustered.

Skye's eyes widened. "That's our chance."

"Wait, wha-" But Skye already dragged him out of their momentary hiding place. They followed the security detail, straight down to the parking garage.

She waited until the people who had led them here were through and gave them an extra five seconds, then pushed the heavy door open and the two agents were presented with a large array of cars, parked more or less neatly in their spaces. The black van holding the chancellor, his wife, and their security was just speeding away.

Benji went ahead with long strides and stopped before a sleek black BMW. He looked at Skye, asking a silent question. She just nodded, went to the driver's door while simultaneously gathering her skirt to reach the knife strapped to her thigh. Benji saw blood on the blade when she pulled it out of the sheath. He watched her ram it down between door and window. She had it open in a matter of seconds, reached in and cut the alarm just as quickly. "Drive or navigate?"

"Drive," Benji chose and they took their seats.

Their car left the garage up the winding ramp just seconds after the chancellor's van. Out on the street, they could already see it again, tinted windows and all, nicely bullet-proof. Police cars were everywhere. Skye exhaled in relief as they overtook them. This car was solid, he was safe for tonight.

"Do you see Ethan?" Benji asked and turned – probably illegally so – onto the pavement between Kärntner Straße and Vienna State Opera.

An explosion to their right swallowed any answer. The black van that Skye had just deemed so solid was torn apart in a cloud of fire that threw it almost a metre into the air. People streaming out of the opera screamed, others just stood there in shock as burning car parts rained down all around.

Benji tore his gaze loose first from the inferno. He had spotted Ethan, and there was so much police around that, no matter how horrific this was, first of all they had to leave. The Brit floored it just to come to a stop again a few seconds later.

"Get in!" he shouted through the open window, then stepped on the gas once he heard the rear door closing. "What the-?! She tried to shoot us!" he exclaimed when a glance into the rearview mirror revealed his third passenger, dressed in bright yellow.

"That doesn't make her a bad person."

"Excuse me?!" Skye half turned in the front passenger seat to shoot a frosty glance first at Hunt, then at the dark-haired woman who accompanied him.

"I did not," she said calmly. "As matter of fact I saved your lives."

"That looked slightly different from where I was standing," Skye replied coldly.

Ethan ignored them and crossed over to the other half of the back seat. "I am gonna have to search you."

"You need to let me go," the woman replied matter-of-factly.

Benji chuckled sarcastically. "Not a chance!"

"I assume you were deep cover in London," Hunt continued unfazed by the remark. "But isn't this taking the role a little far?"

"Wait a minute, do you know her?" Benji asked disbelievingly.

"Who is she?" Skye wanted to know.

"We've never been formally introduced," Ethan said while patting down the yellow dress. "But I'm pretty sure she's British Intelligence?"

"Ilsa Faust," the woman replied drily as he extracted a lipstick from underneath her dress. "You're Ethan Hunt. And that shade is very hard to find."

Promptly he pocketed the lipstick. "What were you doing at the opera tonight?"

"What, aside from killing the chancellor," Benji chimed in.

"Saving your life in London put me in a tight spot with some very dangerous people," Faust explained, following the motion of Ethan's hands. "I was sent to kill the chancellor to regain their trust."

"Ha, so you admit that you killed him!" Benji exclaimed.

"I went through the motions," Ilsa stressed. "That's not the same thing."

"Same outcome at any rate," Skye gave to consider.

Ethan meanwhile pulled the hairpin out of her bun and looked wearily at the sharpened end for a moment. "Put him in the hospital – take him out of harm's way."

"Same thing you tried to do," Faust agreed.

Benji snorted sarcastically. "You're not gonna believe that, are you? What about the rest of her team?"

"You mean those other two idiots?" Faust now addressed Benji directly. "I can only assume they were redundancies."

"Redundancies that were authorised to kill?" Skye asked.

Ilsa frowned. "What do you mean?"

"In case you didn't follow through: one man to kill the chancellor, the other one to kill you," Hunt clarified. "A test."

"Second one I failed, thanks to you," she shot back.

Ethan continued his train of thought. "And the car bomb was insurance."

Skye suddenly patted Benji's shoulder lightly.

He followed her glance via the rear-view mirror. "Uh, we have a tail," he announced.

Ethan held his phone up to Ilsa's face. It showed the drawing he made. "Who is he?"

Ilsa looked at it for a split second, then back at Ethan. "We're after the same thing. If you want to bring down the Syndicate, you have to let me out."

"Uh, they're closing," Benji said.

"This," Ilsa said, "needs to look like an escape, so you just throw me out anywhere."

"You're staying with us until you explained yourself," Skye said.

"Tell me who he is," Ethan repeated.

That was when the first bullets hit the car.

"Change of plan, throw her out!" Benji shouted and ducked.

"You have everything you need to find me!" Ilsa called out, and none of them could react fast enough to prevent her from opening the car's door and throwing herself onto the cobblestone despite the speed they were going at. Ethan had the sense to drag the door shut again and looked through the rear window at Faust, slowly getting up from the ground in the blinding headlights of their pursuers' car. Then Benji rounded a corner, and his line of sight was broken.


	7. Chapter 7

Benji held on to Skye when the floor they were standing on moved downwards. He quickly regained his balance and looked up at Ethan.

"Shorting out safe houses now, are we?" Skye teased. There was something in her voice that made Benji believe in a way she was enjoying this.

"Welcome to my life," Ethan said, and jumped to the lower level of the boat.

"How long have you been living here?" Skye asked when she saw the hidden room. All stainless steel, tiny but practical, with a few personal belongings here and there.

"Ever since I got to Vienna." The door closed behind them as the small room lit up. He didn't waste any time. "New identities. Passports, cash, move map. There's a change of clothes in that bag right there, everything you need to make it to D.C. undetected. Once you're there, you'll have to inform on me."

"I'm supposed-" Benji began.

"No way, Ethan," Skye said at the same time.

"What, sorry, what?" Benji finished voicing his thoughts.

"Tell the truth," Ethan clarified and leaned against the desk to face the two of them. "You came to Vienna believing you won two tickets to the opera. And I attempted to recruit you into assassinating the chancellor. You refused."

"That is not the truth," Benji said forcefully.

"Your lives depend on them believing you, Benji," Ethan explained patiently. "It will go easier if you tell them what they wanna hear."

"Ethan," Benji tried to reason, "at least tell me what this is all about."

"We could help you," Skye added when he hesitated.

Finally Ethan picked up a small remote control and pressed a button. Two computer screens on the opposite wall lit up, showing a line-up of pictures, causing Skye and Benji to turn their heads. "You recognise anyone?"

Benji stepped closer as the faces went by one by one. He felt Skye following, eyes fixed on the screen.

"Him," he suddenly said. It would take a while to get that face out of his memories.

"That's the guy I stabbed earlier," Skye said astonished.

"How did you bring that knife in, anyway?" Benji wanted to know.

"It was your Christmas present, remember? The untraceable knife. I had it in the casing under my dress."

"But why, how did you know this would happen?"

"I didn't. The dress just felt wrong without it." Skye shrugged. "And I thought I wouldn't get a chance to try it out again very soon. I never planned on using it before you showed up," she said to Ethan. She nodded back at the screen. "So who is he?"

"Former KSA, German Intelligence. Missing, presumed dead."

"But... he was at the opera tonight," Benji tried to follow.

"Very much alive," Skye added.

"This one, too," Ethan said and skipped one photo ahead. "Former Mossad."

"Let me guess, presumed dead," Benji said drily.

"Tonight I made it official." Ethan skipped another photo, to the drawing he made of the man he had seen in London. "I was after him in the Bosporus. The same day a car accident killed the visiting president of Malawi." Ethan began to recount his actions from the past six months, backed up by collected photos and newspaper articles. He told them about all the times the man with the glasses had slipped away, and the trail of death and destruction he had left behind. The entire time he couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"They're links in a chain," Ethan said. "The work of a single organisation, the Syndicate. A rogue nation, trained to do what we do, imbued with a new sense of purpose: destroy the system that created them, regardless of who's in the way."

"An anti-IMF," Benji muttered, flustered.

Ethan nodded. "And since Hunley shut us down they've been escalating unchecked. Killing the chancellor tonight was a statement, the start of a new phase."

"Or," Benji said, "they could just be a series of random disasters."

"Don't be ridiculous," Skye said as gently as she could. She was still looking at the photos of the gassed village on screen. "If he was there every time there has to be a connection at the very least. Especially if he was at the opera tonight as well."

Again Ethan nodded. "I don't know who he is, where he's from, how he's funded... but I know he's the key."

Benji suddenly straightened. "Ethan, this is what I signed up for. Let me help you find him."

"That's why I brought you here in the first place, and look what happened," Ethan said vehemently. "I can't protect you. That's why I need you to leave."

Skye sighed, and was about to try and reason with him, when Benji suddenly started yelling.

"That's not your decision to make, Ethan! I am a field agent. I know the risks. More than that, I am your friend, no matter what I tell the polygraph every week. Now you called me, because you needed my help. And you still do," he threw the words into Ethan's face. "So we're staying. And that's all we're gonna say about that."

Skye stared at her boyfriend. She had never seen him break his calmness like that, especially not towards Ethan. Finally she had proof that all this time he had been feeling just the same as her, furious below the surface that he was ripped out of field work like that. And deep down it made her incredibly happy to see it.

Ethan was just as stunned. It took him a few seconds to find his voice, and even then all he managed was, "...okay."

"Good," Benji said, apparently equally surprised by his speech as the others were. He straightened his jacket and relaxed. "Where do we start?"

"Ilsa," Ethan said.

"Right. And how do we find her?"

Ethan allowed himself a smile. "She said we have everything we need."

Benji looked at the lipstick his friend had taken out of his jacket pocket. Curious, he took it and opened it. A normal lipstick in a shade of deep red. Benji frowned. Something about the length of it bothered him. He turned it over and sure enough there was a second way to open it. It revealed a flash-drive. Skye raised her eyebrows in appreciation.

"I can work with that," Benji said. "Do you happen to have a computer I can use?"

Ethan grinned. "Of course."

Benji's frown returned when he saw the initial encryption. "Give me a minute..."

"So how are you guys?" Ethan turned to Skye.

"Good," she said. "Wasting away at Langley."

Ethan chuckled.

"The boys back home are telling me wild stories about you hanging on to a plane during take-off."

Ethan grinned. "You know you can't believe everything you hear."

"Well, that's interesting," Benji suddenly said as his typing ceased.

Ethan immediately snapped back into agent-mode. "What is it?"

"It's a SCIF. Secure Computer Facility. Offline, ultra-contained, impossible to hack in from the outside. It's essentially a digital safety-deposit box. Very strange thing for a young lady to be carrying in her sundries."

Skye and Ethan stepped behind him to see the screen.

"Where is it located?" he asked.

"Um... Morocco."

Ethan smiled. "Morocco..."

"So we go there?" Benji asked hopefully, like a little kid.

"We stay here for the night, leave first thing tomorrow morning," Ethan decided.

"Sounds good to me," Skye said happily. "I'm not gonna travel in this dress though." She smiled back and turned to Benji. "Would you?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Sure." Benji unclasped the small hook and pulled the zipper down just enough so that she could reach it.

"Tak," she said, took her share of fresh clothes out of the bag and disappeared into the miniature bathroom of the boat.

Ethan saw Benji look after her for a second too long, and again felt slightly bad for dragging them into all this. It was obvious that Benji had had different plans for opening that dress.

"Thanks, Ethan," the Brit said unexpectedly.

"Thanks?" he repeated disbelievingly.

"I thought I was gonna lose her." He turned around and started to unravel his bow tie, suddenly grinning. "It's good to be back on the road."


	8. Chapter 8

**CASABLANCA, MOROCCO**

Ethan tore the note off the door. A red lip print on white paper, neatly pinned to the gate. Skye rolled her eyes behind the guys' backs. That shade couldn't be that hard to find after all. She followed Ethan and Benji towards the sleek modern building, framed by tall cacti and a few strips of lawn that somehow managed to be still green despite the high temperatures. The door was open. The three agents crossed through a cool, spacious living room out to the back of the house. Everything seemed deserted. Skye adjusted her sunglasses as she scanned their surroundings. Just then Ilsa broke through the water surface of the narrow pool, taking a deep breath. Apparently she had been under water for some time. Skye saw her checking something on her wrist before turning around to them. Immediately the MI6 agent donned a smile. She left the pool, gracefully showing off her black bikini.

Ethan picked up her towel from a chair and handed it to her.

"And what brings the three of you to Casablanca?" Ilsa asked sweetly while looking only at Ethan.

He took out the lipstick... and smiled at her.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"His name's Solomon Lane. He created the Syndicate."

"Where does he come from?" Ethan asked.

"He's former British Intelligence."

Benji spoke up. "If British Intelligence knows the Syndicate exists, why don't they just tell the CIA?"

Ethan answered in her place. "Because they don't want anyone knowing the Syndicate was created by one of their own."

Ilsa nodded. "I was sent undercover to earn Lane's trust. And eventually identifying the members of his organisation. And for the first time in two years, I'm close to knowing who they are."

"You've been with him for the last two years?" Skye asked incredulously, thinking back to all the events Ethan had told them about on the boat in Vienna. Gassed villages. Plane crashes. Murder, terrorism, so many deaths that could have been prevented with an agent in place.

Ilsa paused. "Lane had a ledger. It contained the identities of his operatives, his terrorist associates, the entire inner workings of the Syndicate. One of his agents stole it hoping to blackmail him. He kept it in a Secure Computer Facility for safe-keeping. He died being interrogated for the access code – leaving Lane with a serious problem."

"So the key to crushing Lane," Ethan mused, "is sitting in a computer just waiting for someone to take it?"

"So why hasn't Lane just sent someone to steal it?" Benji asked.

"Oh, he has. He sent me," Ilsa said. "And I can tell you: It's impossible."

Benji looked at Skye, then at Ethan. She smiled. He just shrugged.

Ilsa set up a computer and connected it to the projector, using the white wall of the room as a screen. Then she took a seat on the sofa. "The facility is hidden beneath the local power plant under military guard. And the only way to download the ledger is through the central computer terminal located there. To reach the terminal you'll need to pass the main gates, access the elevator with fingerprint recognition and open three separate combination locks."

"Well, that's easy," Benji interrupted her. "We impersonate the agent who stole the ledger in the first place and I get to wear a mask."

Skye could see that he had it all planned out in his mind, but she remained sceptical.

As did Ilsa, apparently. "Unfortunately, even if you can make it through every other security measure, you won't beat the last one," she continued seriously. "That's because it's protected by gait analysis. A step beyond facial recognition. These cameras actually know how the agent walks. How he talks, how he moves, right down to his facial ticks."

"So what you're saying is, no mask can beat it," Benji said, disappointed. "We're busted before we could even get to the vault and I wind up in a Moroccan jail playing mummies and daddies with Omar the Strangler." He took a deep breath to make his frustration known. "All right, I don't get to wear a mask."

"Some day," Skye said out of a reflex.

"And there's no other way into the computer lab?"

"No other way in," Ilsa confirmed.

"Air shaft?" Ethan went on.

"Six-inch-diameter pipe."

"Foundation?" Benji tried his luck.

"Twelve feet of concrete, top and bottom," Ilsa kept crushing their hopes.

"Electrical conduit?" both men said at the same time, unwilling to give up.

Ilsa didn't bother. "Bottom line is, there is no way into that terminal unless your profile is pre-installed in the security system."

"Profile." The word sparked fresh hope in Ethan. "Where are the profiles stored?"

"All security data is stored offline in the liquid-cooled array. Here, inside the torus." Benji had stepped towards the wall, where the projection was drawing shapes on his shirt and face.

"Liquid-cooled," Ethan repeated. "You mean that thing is under water?"

"Yes."

Skye stood up and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Benji asked.

"I'm gonna get us a plane," Skye said matter-of-factly. "Or how else do you plan to get in?"

"A plane?" Ilsa repeated incredulously.

"Something nice and civilian that accidentally veers a little off course, just long enough for someone to jump. And then you get in through the windows."

"Windows," Benji repeated, sounding close to disappointed that it was so easy in the end.

"The place has windows, right?" Skye turned to Ilsa.

"Yes, but they're bullet-proof."

Skye shrugged. "Miniature charges. Works every time."

"She's right," Ethan agreed.

The Danish agent took her bag from the chair she'd left it on. "You sort out the rest. I'll see you later."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

 **WASHINGTON, D.C.**

"How did you find me?" Luther asked even before the helicopter had taken off again.

"I put in the work," Brandt replied. Technically he had his memory to thank for it, because Benji had mentioned that Skye had said something about the Caribbean, which in turn had given him a starting point. From then on it had been a matter of concentrating his efforts. But Luther Stickell was a difficult man to impress, so Brandt kept that relatively simple explanation to himself. "Good to see you."

"What couldn't you tell me over the phone?" Luther asked.

Brandt began the little speech he had prepared. "The chancellor of Austria was assassinated. We believe that Ethan, Benji and Skye were there. Hunley has handed it over to Special Activities Division. We need to find Ethan before they do. And that's where you come in."

The helicopter had taken off. Once the wind from its start had ceased completely, Luther put on his hat again.

"Not interested," he said curtly.

"Okay, look, Luther-"

"Look, man," he interrupted. "I know Ethan. I don't know you. All I know about you is you chose to work for Hunley."

"I did get you out of the Mot Clé that one time," Brandt couldn't help pointing out.

"So I've been _told,_ " Luther said. "Those people drugged me out of my mind, remember?"

Brandt sighed. This wasn't gonna be as easy as he had hoped. And what did Luther know about his reasons. He wasn't the only one trying to help. "Well, in that case, all I know about you is you chose to resign."

Luther chuckled. "Man, you don't have to worry about Ethan. They'll never catch him."

"No, they're not gonna catch him," Brandt agreed, allowing his cynicism to take over fully. "No, this is the CIA, this is Hunley we're talking about, things are out of control, and they're going to kill him." He looked into Luther's eyes. "They're going to kill Ethan, they're going to kill Benji, and they're going to kill Skye. We have to get to them first. Are you going to help me?"

Luther paused, and took a step towards Brandt, seizing him up. "You need to understand something," he then finally said. "Ethan is my friend. And if I have one second of doubt whose side you're on..." Luther tilted his head. "...mh."

Brandt nodded, his frown etched into his forehead. He just so kept himself from swallowing. "I believe you."

"All right."

"All right."

"What do I have to go on?"

"Not much," Brandt said, handed the techie the file he'd brought and went back towards the car. "And not a lot of time."


	9. Chapter 9

**CASABLANCA, MOROCCO**

"Do you trust her?"

"Ilsa?" Skye asked. "Not one bit."

Benji smiled quietly. "How did it go?"

"The plane is sorted and ready tomorrow morning. I'll fly us out, you enter through the main gate, we get the profile, you pick me up, and we rendezvous at the service hatch," Skye summed it up. "And then we get the hell out of here and tell the CIA how blind they are."

Benji chuckled, but otherwise remained silent. They were alone in a bedroom in the house. Skye had just come back from organising transport. The balcony door was open and warm wind came in on occasion.

"Something's bothering you," Skye stated.

"You mean aside from being wanted fugitives?" Benji smiled. A smile that broadened into a grin when Skye's arms snaked their way around his neck and pulled him closer – much closer.

"Tell me," she whispered into his ear.

Benji was dazzled for a moment. Skye's hair felt so soft under his fingers. He wanted to kiss her, in fact he hadto, right now, or he would go crazy. His lips landed on her cheek first when he lacked the patience to find her mouth, and then made their way from there.

When the two of them broke apart it was like resurfacing from underwater. Neither of them recalled how they ended up leaned against the wall, having started in the middle of the room.

Skye traced invisible lines on Benji's neck. "Tell me," she persisted smiling.

"I felt slightly bad that our weekend trip to Vienna turned into... well, this," Benji said, fully aware that the past tense wasn't lost on her. He held her tightly, making sure she was comfortable in his embrace. "I swear I didn't know that Ethan was behind the tickets. You have to believe me. If I had known that..."

A tender kiss interrupted his sentence effectively. "If you had known it was him you would have gone regardless." Skye smiled as she quit standing on tip-toes. "Which is why I love you."

Benji stared a bit. Skye didn't say it often, which made him cherish those moments when she did all the more. The warm wind from outside tousled Skye's hair. He caught her in a tight embrace, wanting to be closer to her than any kiss would allow, with her head against his chest and his nose buried in her hair, until they weren't sure whose heartbeat it was they were hearing.

"Don't get me wrong, but a part of me is glad this happened." She looked up.

He nodded. "I know what you mean."

It was like someone had flicked a switch the moment things had come into motion in Vienna. Like putting a car back into the right gear after driving in the wrong one for a while, and suddenly things went smoothly again.

"It's this place somehow," Benji said, sliding one hand underneath her shirt. "There's something about it."

"Yeah," she breathed.

Once more, they kissed. It felt like they had all the time in the world.

Benji made an annoyed noise when she broke loose, but then his head tilted back uncontrolled when Skye kissed the spot below his ear. A quiet groan escaped him, causing Skye to start chuckling softly.

How much he had missed this. Her. Them. Suddenly he realised how close he had been to losing this. He picked her up and carried her over to the bed, her giggling unbroken. They kissed and kissed, losing Benji's shirt somewhere in the process.

"You're right," Skye whispered, and he felt her warm breath on his neck, "it's this place somehow."

Benji grinned, and in this sudden happiness that overcame him like a wave he pulled her close again, kissing her passionately.

"Mh," she suddenly said, trying to free her mouth enough to speak, "Benji, wait."

He looked at her with his big blue eyes, wondering, almost a bit afraid, why she suddenly looked so serious.

"Should we leave them alone down there?"

Benji frowned, but then he sighed. "God damn it."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Lane is the type of person who likes to control every single step of everything, isn't he?" Ethan asked.

"Let's not talk about Lane," Ilsa said.

Ethan crossed his arms and smiled. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Why are you doing this despite being disavowed?" Ilsa seemed genuinely curious.

"Why are you doing it?" Ethan turned the question around.

"I asked you first."

Ethan's grin returned. "Isn't it enough that I'm here?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Ilsa replied with the ghost of a smile.

For a second they just looked at each other, then Ethan pushed himself off the table he had been leaning on and made his way across the room to where Ilsa was sitting. She never broke eye-contact and seemed curious about what he was gonna do next.

"Is anybody hungry?"

Both agents turned around to the kitchen area. Benji was standing in the middle of the room, innocently tilting his head.

Ethan sighed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Thanks again," the blond woman said in French as she signed for the plane from the tiny rental place.

"Of course," the man replied, flustered at the sight of her gracious tip. "This is too much, I can't-"

"Sure you can," she said firmly. "I got some great photos out of it."

He thanked her enthusiastically. "And good luck with your article, mademoiselle!" The woman had already disappeared. He looked back at the bank notes in his hand. He should rent out to American journalists more often.

Skye had followed the radio chatter while she was still in the air, but eventually everyone had fallen silent. The landing had gone smoothly – Skye was pleased with herself – and she had returned the plane to the rental agency, keeping things discreet. Now, as she made her way back into town, she could only hope everyone else was fine.

The silver BMW pulled up next to her exactly on time.

Benji already grinned when she dragged the passenger door shut.

"Did we get it?"

Benji's grin grew even wider as he pulled the flash-drive out of his shirt's breast pocket. Skye smiled back at him. He started the engine and drove their car back into the direction they had come from, sticking to the side streets this time, all the while excitedly recounting what had happened on the inside.

In a moment when he was distracted by traffic and his own excitement, Skye accessed the car's security profiles and deleted Ilsa's hand print.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Skye and Benji entered through the backdoor, into a large concrete-only dodgy hall that provided access to the service hatch.

"What did I tell you," Benji said cheerfully as they went down the stairs. "Difficult, absolutely, but certainly not impo..." The sentence trailed away into nothingness when he saw Ethan lying on the ground, not moving and at the very least dazed. Ilsa was leaning over him, soaking wet herself, the defibrillator on the floor right next to her.

"What happened?" Skye asked alarmed, running down the stairs with Benji close on her heels. But the next second it seemed to be quite obvious what had gone on while they were outside. That explained the silence on the radio. The three of them exchanged glances, when Benji sprang into action.

"Okay," he said, trying to calm himself down, and took off his backpack. He handed Ilsa the clothes she had packed. "Hey," he said before he let go, waiting to have her full attention. "I misjudged you."

Skye had a weird feeling about this. Not a bad premonition as such, just nagging doubt if Benji wasn't too fast to trust her. But first things first. While the Brit went over to Ethan, Skye stuck with her. "Are you okay?"

Ilsa pulled her fresh shirt close and turned back around to the Dane. "Yes," she said curtly. "He's just a bit dazed."

"I meant..." Skye stopped when she saw Ilsa glance at the flashdrive in Benji's hand. Something about it bothered her.

Then Ilsa looked back at her. For a second neither of them moved, then she made a half turn and Skye's legs were pulled away from beneath her.

The blond woman tumbled backwards, almost lost her balance at the edge of the high step of the platform in front of the hatch. She heard an electric noise, and Benji cried out for a second before the sound abruptly cut off. Ethan murmured something.

But Skye was back on track. Fury welled up in her when she saw the defibrillator in Faust's hands. She should have trusted her gut feeling. Skye charged forward. She caught Ilsa midway and both women tumbled over the edge, falling half a meter and hitting the concrete hard. Ilsa was already on her feet, intent on getting away, and Skye saw the flashdrive in her hand.

She got close again, hit her jaw as hard as she could, but Ilsa managed to keep the advantage, and so all Skye got was an angry shout. The next thing she knew was that Ilsa rammed her foot into her stomach, sending her doubling over and tumbling backwards at the same time, hence hitting the sharp edge of the step full-on with her back. She groaned before she fell limply to the floor, where she involuntarily curled up. Through tearing eyes she saw the slightly unfocused picture of Ilsa Faust fleeing the scene.

"No... wait..." Ethan said hoarsely, but hardly managed to turn his head.

Skye squeezed her eyes shut and focused. She got on her knees, briefly resting on all fours before forcing herself to ignore the pain and get up. Ethan was blinking furiously, trying to clear his head, already attempting to get himself in a more upright position. Benji lay a bit off, sprawled out on his back, eyes closed, the fatal defibrillator just next to him.

"Benji!" Skye was already by his side and felt for his pulse. She held his head, kept repeating his name – and then his eyelids started flickering, finally revealing big questioning eyes. Skye exhaled deeply in relief.

Ethan managed to prop himself up on his elbows. "You have to go after her," he rasped in a whisper, but Skye was already up and running.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I know it's not that big of a deal, but every time I watch Rogue Nation it bothers me so much that we don't know who's flying that plane Ethan and Ilsa jump from. To be honest, that's kind of what triggered this whole story because Skye is a pilot._

 _I also want to thank Fallout47 and lyona5 again for their reviews, it's been amazing to read them everyday :)_


	10. Chapter 10

Skye looked left and right, but of course there was no sight of the other woman. The car was still there – of course - but that left her with the question of where to go. Skye cursed. In that moment she heard the howling of a motor. A motorcycle, to be precise, followed by the strange, loud noise of several vehicles colliding. Whatever it was, it sounded like trouble, and that was an undeniable clue of Faust's whereabouts.

When Skye ran up to the road where the noise had come from she saw several men on the ground, half buried under their bikes, groaning and complaining about bruises, while others were already on their feet, cursing and shouting after a motorcycle that quickly vanished in the small streets of Casablanca.

Skye didn't waste time. She picked up the nearest motorcycle before the rightful owner could get up and followed Agent Faust.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I thought you said you could find them," Brandt complained. They had been driving around aimlessly for over an hour now.

"I said I could locate them, you have to find them," Luther clarified from the passenger's sear of their rented 4x4.

"Right," Brandt said, barely concealing his temper. This was beginning to feel pointless.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The bike was technically too big for Skye, and that was the one but unavoidable problem. Hence, when she turned into the curve just like all the others before her, she underestimated her speed, couldn't keep her balance and came dangerously close to the ground. She felt the weight of the motorcycle turn against her, but there was no chance to correct her error in time without either crashing into a building or the white 4x4 that had managed to brake just in time. Skye felt she had no choice, but to let the bike meet the ground and crash – only preferably without her inbetween. In the last possible moment she pushed herself off and managed to roll. She stopped, lying sideways on the edge of the dusty street just a couple of inches next to the wall of the next house, feeling a bit scratched, but that was all. The bike had crashed into the wall a couple of metres away. It now looked strangely squashed, one wheel was still spinning through the thin smoke cloud curling up from it.

Skye looked up just in time to see a car come to a halt with screeching tyres, suddenly sliding and just barely avoiding a crash with the 4x4.

"Holy shit," she muttered when she recognized their BMW – and Ethan was driving. And... waving? The next moment the BMW sped up again in the direction Ilsa and her buddies had taken, and just in time Skye caught a glimpse of Benji on the passenger's seat. Not wasting a second, she crossed the narrow street and opened the door of the large 4x4.

"Follow that car!" she shouted, smashing the door shut.

"Skye?" it sounded incredulously.

"Brandt?"

"Kid?" Luther chimed in, and only then she noticed that they were wasting precious seconds.

"I'll explain later, drive!"

The rest of the motorcycles shot out of the side-street, in fast pursuit of Ilsa, and apparently now also Ethan and Benji.

But Brandt was already reversing in order to get the car into the right position.

"It's a high speed chase. You just had to get the 4x4, didn't you," he said angrily to Luther while furiously shifting gears.

"Don't blame me, you chose the car."

"You just had to have it!" Brandt shouted back.

"What, you want me to drive?" Luther threatened. "Look at how slow you got, speed it up!"

Skye shifted in the backseat in exasperation, the bikes were already out of sight, same went for the BMW. What the hell were they doing? Finally, the car was turned around and Brandt gave everything the 4x4 had.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Have you got your seatbelt on?" Ethan asked dead-serious while driving backwards at top speed.

"You're asking me that now?!" Benji replied, unable to keep a high-pitched note out of his voice, but the next second other things proved more distracting.

Such as crashing.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"That's them!" Skye shouted, but apart from that all they could do was watch in stunned silence how the silver car crashed backwards at full speed through the gate and somersaulted once, twice, three times, before landing on its roof and sliding several metres before coming to a stop.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

All Ethan could hear was a weirdly high-pitched note that seemed to originate from inside his head. The airbag slowly deflated and hung uselessly in front of him, revealing dusty ground in front of the windshield. Up was down. His sunglasses lay strangely intact in the middle of dirt and glass fragments.

Still slightly dazed, he managed to turn his head a bit to the right. Benji was limply hanging in his seat, held in place only by his seatbelt. His head lay loosely on what used to be the ceiling of the car, tilted in an angle that didn't look healthy. His eyes were closed and Ethan could see no apparent movement. But before he could further assess this situation, a new problem appeared. His hearing had secretly returned and he noticed the discomforting sound of a motorcycle, coming to a halt in close vicinity.

Ethan turned his head the other way, and he didn't like what he was seeing. Without any rush the driver was dismounting his vehicle. Stuck in his current predicament, all Ethan could see were the man's boots, making cracking noises on the fragments of the car's former windows with every step he took towards him.

Hunt reached to unbuckle his seatbelt, but it was stuck. He pulled, ripped, and tugged at it, but it wouldn't give way. Simultaneously the man stepped closer, fully aware that Hunt had nowhere to run and therefore in no hurry. Ethan was on the verge of panicking when the damn belt just wouldn't waver. The guy approaching him was at the car, about to bend down. Just when Ethan was mentally preparing for a struggle that most likely – how had Benji put it so eloquently – wasn't gonna end well, a huge car stopped just next to him, the front tyre level with his head, hitting the motorcyclist and sending him tumbling ahead and down to the ground, where he came to a stop and wouldn't move anymore.

Ethan Hunt had trouble recalling when he'd last been so relieved, and sighed deeply, closing his eyes again for a second. A face appeared next to him.

"Are we good?" Brandt asked.

Ethan decided to leave all the explanations for later when he detected the demanding for answers beneath the concern in the analyst's face at first glance, and play it cool instead. "Things... got a little out of hand."

He heard steps. Someone was running around the car.

"Benji?" Skye's voice sounded, calm by professional force, but not quite covering up her worry. She bent down and her eyes widened in shock, when Benji suddenly flinched awake.

"AAAARGH! Look out!" the Brit called, attempting to push himself of the ceiling and bouncing back into his seat, before he realised the new conditions of the vehicle's alignment. He looked so almost comically confused, that Skye breathed out an enormous amount of air before she allowed herself to fall down, where she leaned against the car and started laughing in relief.

Meanwhile Luther tried to help Ethan out of the car, but Hunt just waved his friend away, trying to reassure him that he was fine.

Skye moved out of the way when Brandt and Luther came around to them. The analyst opened the door of the upside down passenger seat.

"Oh, hey boys, what did I miss?" Benji said smoothly when he caught sight of them, causing Skye to continue chuckling.

Brandt already bent down and whipped out his pocket knife in order to cut the seatbelt.

"Oooh, that looks sharp," Benji said, respectfully sucking in air. "Careful! Careful," he advised him. The analyst had to suppress a smile at the way his friend craned his neck away, then he decided to make short work of it and pulled the techie out through the door.

Benji scrambled up to his feet and, without thinking much about it, hugged Brandt. The men patted each others' shoulders comradely before letting go.

Luther, as well, slapped his back, maybe a little too hard, but Benji grinned nevertheless.

"Good to see you," he said, to which Brandt just nodded in agreement. Then the technician turned around to Skye, who had stayed close the entire time in case he needed steadying. They skipped the _Are you all right? That was quite a fall. - And what about your spectacular car spin? And why did you let Ethan drive anyway?_ as that all passed unspoken between them by means of a single glance. Instead Skye caught him in a tight hug, making use of the moment before the adrenaline would wear off and their various bruises would make this far less pleasant.

When they let go of each other, she looked around, strangely taking comfort in the fact that they weren't all on their own anymore. Luther and Brandt were here to help them, that much was certain, and together they would -

"Hold on a second," she said, looking around. "Where's Ethan?"


	11. Chapter 11

They drove up in the 4x4 after Ethan had called Brandt from a café. In a village, several kilometres away. The man couldn't be helped, he was insane.

None of them said very much after Benji and Skye had filled them in on recent events. Most of the drive had been filled with heavy silence, since it had been clear from Ethan's call that Ilsa was gone for good. And with her the ledger.

They saw Ethan at a table near the back. He looked equally dusty and exhausted. The others took a seat.

"Where is Ilsa?" Skye asked carefully.

"I lost her."

"You lost her?" Benji asked the team leader incredulously.

Ethan looked at the table.

Luther was the only one who dared him to answer the question. "So what do we do now?"

Ethan looked at his friend for a second, then turned to Benji. "Please tell me you made a copy of that disc."

Benji sighed, as if disappointed. "Of course I made a copy."

Luther smiled, unable to hide his pride.

Brandt allowed something like hope to creep into his voice. "So where are we going?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

 **LONDON, ENGLAND**

London. Back where it all started, Ethan thought. He wondered what Ilsa was doing out there right now. Whom she was meeting. Whether she was safe.

Luther made a sound on the computer.

"What, what's happening?" Ethan asked, turning around.

"I can't open it," Luther stated.

Had he misheard? "What do you mean, you can't open it?"

"I mean I can't open it, ever."

"That's a Red Box," Benji said meaningfully.

"What?" Brandt asked from his vantage point at the window.

"It's a Red Box," Ethan repeated helpfully.

"Meaning?" Skye prompted.

"The British government uses it to transport state secrets."

"Doesn't sound good," Brandt said.

"Meaning it's triple-encrypted," Benji picked it up. "You don't get into that thing unless you have fingerprints, retinal scan and a voice-phrase spoken by a specific individual."

"The Prime Minister of Great Britain himself," Ethan finished. He had to sit down.

"Yes, him," Benji confirmed.

Skye rolled her hair back into a bun. She needed to occupy her hands. "Can we fake it?"

"Maybe the voice, but I don't see how we would get the other two," Benji said.

Brandt crossed his arms and leaned against the window. "So what you're saying is, there is no ledger, which means we have no proof that the Syndicate even exists, so we're back to square one. Only now we're all wanted by the CIA. I'm so proud of us."

Benji tried to distract from the melancholy that threatened to overcome the room. "What I don't understand is, why is there a Red Box set in a private data vault in Morocco?"

"And why would Lane want it if he can't open it?" Luther continued.

"If Lane wants it, you can bet that he has a plan to open it." Realisation spread over Benji's features as he spoke. "...and we just helped him steal it."

Ethan and Luther exchanged a glance. They were thinking the same thing.

"He's going to take the Prime Minister," Luther said.

"Yes, he is," Ethan said, flustered. "The question is how."

Benji stood up. "We have to warn the British government."

"Yeah, MI6." Brandt stood up as well and got his phone.

"Brandt, put down the phone." Ethan held up one hand. "Let's think about this."

"What's there to think about, the same thing already happened in Austria," Skye said. It was a fact, spoken calmly. "Or do you really believe he's gonna just let him walk away after getting the prints and the retinal scan? This is bigger than us."

"She's right, Ethan, there are lives at stake here," Brandt said, walking towards Ethan. "We have a responsibility to warn the British government, and not gamble with the Prime Minister's life, just so you can beat the guy that's beaten you at every turn."

"Is that what you think this is?" Ethan looked around at his team, first Brandt, then Skye, then Benji and Luther, one at a time. "Is that what you think this is?"

"I think that's exactly what this is," Skye admitted.

"Right now, I think you're incapable of seeing there is another way," the analyst sighed.

Luther took sides. "And sometimes Ethan is the only one capable of seeing the _only_ way."

"And if he is wrong, then we have Vienna all over again," Brandt shouted.

Ethan started shouting as well."You don't know him. If he wants something to happen, there is no preventing it!"

Skye went to stand next to Brandt. "Know him? Ethan, you can't be serious, no one knows this guy! Whatever you think you _know_ is exactly what he wants you to know, you just pointed out his scheme yourself."

Benji flinched when she, too, raised her voice. He hated being between two parties like this.

" _Thank_ you," Brandt said to her. "Which brings us right back to warning the British." The analyst took out his phone again.

"Maybe that's exactly what he wants us to do!"

"Are you listening to yourself?! We are going to warn the British."

"No. We are gonna find Lane and we're gonna get him. Before he takes the Prime Minister."

Brandt looked at Skye. Then at Ethan. And then he backed down. "Okay. All right, Ethan," he started, never losing his cynic tone. He threw his phone onto the desk. "We're gonna find Lane. But please tell me – how are we gonna do that?"

Ethan stared back at him, fully aware that Brandt knew he didn't have an answer to that.

That was when the ping sounded.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ilsa saw Ethan first. Black leather jacket and his damned smile. She stopped in her tracks, looked behind her. Benji grinned and waved a couple of metres away. To her right. A guy with sunglasses leaned against the red-tiled wall and nodded a greeting at her. Ahead of her, behind Ethan, she spotted Luther pretending to use a pay-phone in one of the booths. And to her left was the woman, Skye, at the counter of the café, seemingly absorbed in a newspaper. Their eyes met for a second.

Then Ilsa focused on Ethan again. They had a seat.

"I'm gonna have to say... you sure can ride."

Really? That was the first thing he said? She smiled for a second. "Ethan..."

"You were just doing you job," he said at once. "That's all we're gonna say about it."

Ilsa's gaze didn't let go of him. "Atlee said you would understand."

"Atlee? Your handler at British Intelligence?"

She nodded once.

"And he didn't bring you in. Even after you gave him the disc."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

That's it, Ethan, Skye thought, who could hear the entire conversation in her earpiece. Show her how bad they treat her and maybe she won't try to kill all of us again. Skye took a few careful steps towards them. She was closest out of all of them, and almost didn't need the plug to listen in.

"You knew perfectly well it was blank."

Benji huffed. _"That's a lie, the disc she took was an exact copy, I'm sure of it."_

She's good, Skye thought. In a way, one had to admire it. Long-term undercover jobs were no joke. But this wasn't the time.

"Was it in your possession the entire time?" Ethan asked.

Skye watched Ilsa's face closely and saw the shadow that passed over it. Something shifted, she felt it.

"They don't care if you live or die," Ilsa said, almost absent-mindedly. She turned back to Ethan, leaned forward on the table. "But you knew I was going to take you to him."

"I hoped you would," Ethan said.

" _Whoa, whoa, whoa, that means Lane doesn't have the disc, only we do,"_ Benji said.

" _I have a question,"_ Brandt announced. _"If the disc was blank, why is she still alive? Unless, of course, Lane wanted us to find her."_

Excellent question, in Skye's opinion.

"So who are you working for now?" Ethan converted it diplomatically.

"Lane, Atlee. Your government, my government, they're all the same. We only think we're fighting on the right side because that's what we choose to believe."

"So where does that leave us?" Ethan asked unimpressed.

"The way I see it, you have three choices. One: You hand me and the disc over to the CIA. I am proof the Syndicate exists. Lane becomes their problem and your work is done."

"Let's take that one," Skye said quietly.

" _My thoughts exactly,"_ Brandt agreed.

So did Benji. _"Works for me."_

"But you know they're not gonna believe you," Ilsa continued and briefly looked around at the scattered team. "And you'll all be tried for treason. Lane goes free."

" _I'm afraid she has a point,"_ Luther commented.

Skye wanted to disagree, but Ilsa already continued and she wanted to hear what she had to dish out.

"Two: You let me walk away to an uncertain fate. You use the disc as bait to trap Lane. But some part of you suspects you've met your match. And being a gambler you'll probably end up handing that disc to Lane whether you want to or not."

" _That is entirely possible,"_ Benji admitted.

"Unless someone who knows how to win a gamble makes the exchange," Skye suggested in a whisper.

"And option three?"

"Come away with me. Right now."

" _Oh, boy..."_ Luther's voice sounded over the comm.

Ethan looked at Ilsa. Then he calmly took out his earpiece and placed it in front of him on the table.

Skye wasn't sure she believed what she was seeing. Judging from her expression, neither could Faust, but it only lasted a second. None of them could hear what Ethan said next, all they knew was that he and Ilsa got up and left.

" _Ethan, what are you doing?"_ Luther asked pointlessly.

Skye looked to her right to catch Benji's eyes, to see what he made of this. Scanning the dense crowd, she looked for a red jacket. And then she found it. But it was too late.


	12. Chapter 12

" _Benji."_

Brandt heard Skye's voice in his ear, but couldn't follow. He was still looking at Ethan and the woman who apparently intended to leave the station. But that didn't make any sense. That wasn't in accordance with any plan they had considered.

" _They're taking Benji!"_ Skye suddenly shouted.

Brandt spun around and just caught a glimpse of Skye running. Without thinking about it, his instincts took over and he followed her at top speed before she'd be out of sight.

Within a minute he was a level lower in the parking garage, Skye ahead of him, suddenly stopping in the middle of the driving lane, taking aim with her gun at a white van that was speeding away.

She hit the top left corner of the back door, then it was already out of sight.

For a moment both agents stood there, staring after the van.

"No," Skye then said tonelessly and started shaking her head. Then she raised her voice. "No, they're not getting away with this!"

Brandt felt her frustration. Deeply. "She set us up," he murmured.

"No, _they_ did! Her and Ethan. What the hell was he doing back there?" she kept shouting.

Despite his own feelings Brandt felt the need to defend him. "He must have a plan of his own."

"No!" Skye said fiercely. "You know what, I'm done with Ethan's solo runs. For all I know he could be in with Lane at this point."

"Maybe-"

"I lost them," Luther suddenly said behind them. "But she left this on the table."

Brandt turned around to him, feeling the need to shout at him, even though he knew that would be equally unfair and unproductive. The other man was holding a phone in his hand.

"If anything happens to Benji, it's his fault, an his fault alone," Skye hissed full of hatred.

That moment, the phone in Luther's hand started ringing. For a second he considered, then he accepted the call. He had barely heard the first words of the caller when Skye started towards him.

"Give me that," she hissed. Luther surrendered the phone. Neither he nor Brandt had ever seen the expression in her eyes, but her voice was perfectly, almost eerily calm. "Lane?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Who the hell is this?" Solomon Lane asked when he suddenly heard a female voice on the other end. "Where is Hunt?"

"I don't give a damn about where Hunt is right now," she answered. "Where are you taking Benji?"

Lane thought about it for a moment.

"Tell me where he is!"

"If you want to see your friend alive and well, you'll have to do a job for me." She didn't answer but he knew she was listening, so he continued. "I want you to bring me the unlocked disc by midnight tonight. And bring me Ethan Hunt. Now say the wor-"

"I will get you the disc," she said. "But if I find Hunt before you do there won't be much of him left."

Lane looked at the phone. Curiously. Intrigued. She had hung up on him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Where are you going?" Luther called after Skye when she turned around and walked away.

"I'm going to get him that disc and get Benji back," she said matter-of-factly.

"Skye, there's only one person on earth who can unlock that disc," Luther put in.

"The Prime Minister. I know."

Brandt felt his exasperation grow. A half hysteric, half desperate chuckle was fighting its way up inside him. "Let's just think about that for a minute."

Skye kept walking. Brandt went to catch up with her.

"If we go along with that we're doing exactly what Lane wants us to do," he tried to reason.

Skye sharply turned around to him. "Brandt, if this is what it takes to get him back then I'm going to do it. We can't count on Ethan anymore. Feel free to help me."

His fury suddenly took over. "So what's your brilliant plan then?!"

Skye held his gaze for a second, and he got to the point where he wasn't sure if he could take it to hear her say that she didn't know, because his own mind, while working on high-speed, came up with nothing. Then the woman blinked. "You're going to have to inform on us."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I have a car ready," Ilsa said while Ethan tried to keep up with her fast pace. "Passports too, we can be at Heathrow in..." She cut herself off when she saw his face.

"Ilsa," he said gently.

She understood at once. He wouldn't come with her. Like every other person in her life, he had betrayed her.

"You need to tell me where Lane is," he went on.

Ilsa couldn't bear looking at him. How stupid she had been to believe for one second he would... she felt the gun in her coat pocket. Slowly, she looked back at Ethan.


	13. Chapter 13

"You were right to call me, Brandt," Hunley said instead of a greeting when he caught up with the analyst. "Where is Hunt?"

"He's on his way," Brandt replied curtly.

"We don't have much time," Hunley urged. "What does he intend to do?"

"I don't know," Brandt said and suppressed a dry chuckle at the thought that that was the truth for a change.

"Have you informed the British government that Hunt has targeted the Prime Minister?" Hunley asked irritated.

"I have -" Brandt began, but was interrupted when they were joined by another man.

"Director Hunley," he greeted them. Despite his tuxedo he looked dishevelled somehow, as if he had to get ready more quickly than anticipated. He was short, especially standing in front of the CIA director, his greying hair was slicked back and he wore glasses. "What is going on here?"

"Chief Atlee," the director responded in kind. "I have reason to believe the Prime Minister's life is in danger."

Atlee's frown deepened and nodded towards the building to indicate that he wanted them to follow him there. "I'm listening."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Sorry, darling, of course there was a line at the bathroom."

The Prime Minister of Great Britain looked away from the stage as his wife joined him again. He smiled as she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. He was about to reply when a bodyguard stepped forward as discreetly as he could to cause as little disturbance as possible.

"Sir," he said quietly. "Chief Atlee from MI6 needs to see you. He says it's urgent."

The PM nodded, suppressing a sigh. "Excuse me," he said to the woman by his side and stood up.

"Actually," the bodyguard continued his whisper, "I was asked to bring both you and your wife. We have reason to believe that your security is compromised."

He raised his eyebrows and met his wife's surprised gaze. She swallowed, but stood up as well, refraining from asking further questions until they followed the man out of the auction room. In the hallway there were already three men waiting for them.

"Chief Atlee," he asked, turning to the only familiar face. "What is this about?"

"Prime Minister, this is Director Hunley of the CIA."

"Prime Minister," the taller of the two remaining men responded. "We have reason to believe someone targeted you. Your and your wife's lives may be in danger."

The PM threw him a glance when his wife couldn't quite suppress a gasp. Then he looked to Atlee, awaiting further information.

Instead the third man spoke up now. He was American as well. "Sir, maybe we should discuss this somewhere more secure?"

"Yes, of course," Atlee agreed at once and headed down the corridor, indicating the others to follow him. They reached an empty sitting room, and he turned to the two bodyguards. "Nobody enters this room until we are finished."

"Yes, sir," they said obediently and took their positions outside the door as soon as it closed in front of them.

"Now, Director Hunley," the PM started once they were alone. "Excuse my bluntness, but who is this person? Why is he after us?"

"Sir, the man who is after you, Ethan Hunt, was part of a disgraced intelligence agency which has since been dissolved," Hunley launched into his explanation. "Unfortunately he has gone rogue, intent on dismantling an imaginary terror network."

"And if you don't mind my asking – what do I have to do with this phantom network? And more specifically my wife?" the Prime Minister asked, a little confused, and motioned to his wife to stay calm. She had made her way to stand close to Chief Atlee. He worried this might scare her, he liked to keep her out of these things as much as possible.

"New intelligence suggests that he's been manipulated by one of your own former agents. We believe he might try to get to you through people close to you." Hunley nodded towards the woman, then indicated the man next to him. "This is William Brandt, a former colleague of Hunts. He came forward with first-hand knowledge of the plot against you."

"Sir, Hunt is in possession of a virtual Red Box that can only be opened by you," Brandt explained. "He believes it's the key to bring down the Syndicate."

The PM straightened. "The Syndicate you say?"

"Yes, sir," Hunley put in apologetically. "That's what he calls it."

"Atlee." The PM turned towards his SIS Chief. "He couldn't possibly be talking about _that_ Syndicate? Because you assured me that _that_ Syndicate was merely an exercise."

"Darling, what are you talking about?" The PM's wife stood behind Atlee by now, still flustered, obviously trying to stick to the background.

"This is none of your concern, darling," he responded, faintly angry that she had to go through this ordeal. "Atlee?" he prompted again.

"The Syndicate..." he stammered, caught of guard. "It – it was an exercise, most certainly."

"And yet here we have the Central Intelligence Agency indicating otherwise," the PM replied coldly.

"This is clearly the doing of Agent Faust," Atlee said. "Right now our main objective should be -"

"Sir," Brandt interrupted. "Does the name Solomon Lane ring a bell?"

"Yes," the Prime Minister answered sourly, a little surprised, but still without hesitating. "Unfortunately it does."

"...so there actually is a Syndicate?" Hunley couldn't help asking.

"It was a hypothetical brainchild of Chief Atlee." He didn't bother trying to mask the undercurrent of anger in his voice any more. "Recruit former agents from other nations, supply them with a new identity and use them to surgically remove our enemies both at home and abroad. Its operating budget was to be hidden off shore in a virtual Red Box which only I would control. It would have made me judge, jury and executioner with zero accountability." The PM looked at his wife when he said the next sentence. "I rejected the proposal unequivocally. Furthermore I was given every assurance that it never passed the planning stage."

"No, no, no," Atlee said quickly. "There is no Syndicate. I'm convinced that Agent Faust-"

"Atlee," the Prime Minister hissed. "Save it for the public inquiry." Angrily he turned towards the door but found the CIA director blocking his way.

"Sir, I urge you not to leave this room."

"Excuse me."

"Please," he said. "Hunt is uniquely trained and highly motivated. A specialist without equal, immune to any counter-measures. There is no secret he cannot extract, no security he cannot breach, no person he cannot become. He has most likely anticipated this very conversation and is waiting to strike in whatever direction we move. Sir, Hunt is the living manifestation of destiny, and he has made _you_ his mission."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating?" the PM asked as respectfully as possibly, but stopped himself when he saw Atlee charging towards him.

His hands went around the Prime Minister's neck and executed pressure, apparently intent on strangling him in front of everyone.

In that moment the PM's wife produced a gun from underneath her dress and shot Atlee in the back. The man sagged down to the floor immediately. At the same time Brandt took out a similar weapon and turned it on the Prime Minister. The red feathered dart hit him square in the chest. He, too, sagged towards the floor, but Hunley rushed to catch him and sat him down on a nearby chair.

When the director looked up to stare incredulously at the dark-haired woman, she was just grabbing the side of her face and pulled it clear off, revealing white-blond hair underneath.

"Holt?" the CIA director gasped in disbelief.

"God, I hate these things," Skye muttered, peeled the voice chip off and let the mask drop to the floor. Then she turned to Hunley and pointed the gun at him. "'Living manifestation of destiny'? Really? If you would be so kind to move over there." The gun followed Hunley's careful steps.

"Holt, I hope you realise -"

"And shut up." Next she pulled a phone from beyond the neckline of her black-and-white dress. "Stand by to receive."

"Ready," Luther responded at once.

Skye nodded at Brandt, who went over to the PM to initiate the scanning process. Once their techie confirmed the retinal scan was complete, he pressed the man's palm to the sensor pad.

"You've got a very warm hand," the PM slurred.

Brandt's face morphed into a slightly desperate quizzical frown as he slowly turned his head towards Skye. She replied with a shrug. He sighed with relief when Luther announced, "Biometrics confirmed. The prompt is Kipling."

"The prompt is Kipling," Skye said and handed him the phone.

The analyst turned towards the PM. "Sir, I'm gonna need a pass phrase," he said softly, enunciating carefully. "The prompt is Kipling."

"Yes, of course," the PM said with his slight drug-induced lull. "'If you can keep your head when all around you are losing theirs. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you.'"

Brandt stood up and held the phone to his ear. "You got it?"

"I got it," Luther replied. "Oh man, do I got it."

"Brandt, what the hell is going on here?" Hunley interjected sharply, still holding his hands up since Skye held him at gunpoint.

"When you confronted Atlee about the Syndicate, he attacked the Prime Minister," Brandt explained calmly.

"Yes, that's true," the PM agreed.

"And his wife saved him."

"Did she?" he slurred. "I'm very grateful."

"As for Chief Atlee," Skye took over and bent down to turn Atlee on his back.

He groaned. "Do you know who I am...?" he began slowly.

"If you want to ask Mr. Atlee some questions he might tell you that the Syndicate was his idea," Brandt said to Hunley.

"But Lane decided that he really liked that money and used it against you, as he would."

"That's... true," Atlee said sluggishly.

Hunley looked at the two agents in surprise.

"And in order to cover up his failure he erased the disc we secured and tried to frame Ilsa Faust," Skye continued.

"That's... also true..." Atlee replied.

Hunley now nodded, still slightly unsure, when Brandt handed him a syringe. But there was something like appreciation in his glance.

"The antidote," the analyst explained.

Skye straightened. "The Prime Minister's wife is with Agent Stickell in the van outside. She's safe."

"And what are you going to do?"

"We," Skye said, already at the door, "are going to catch Lane."

Once outside, closely followed by Brandt, the woman took out her phone.

The response came quickly. "You're cutting it very close, Skye."

The hoarse voice on the phone made the agent feel sick. She didn't know how he knew her name, and she didn't care. "I'm on time," she stated calmly, but without disguising her anger. "Where do we meet?"


	14. Chapter 14

After Skye had knocked out the Prime Minister's wife, she and Luther had eased her through the window of the ladies' room. Once she was safely in the van – wrapped in a dressing gown and a blanket, since Skye had to appropriate her dress – Luther had driven several streets away.

It wasn't far, but Agents Holt and Brandt still opted to take the car there since they were shot of time already. He pulled up behind the van just minutes after they had left the PM with Hunley. Skye pushed the sliding door open and saw Luther staring at his laptop. She reached for the ominous flashdrive.

"Skye, wait," Luther stopped her and closed the laptop, pushing it out of her reach.

Holt tried to get past him, but he stood in her way. "Luther, I have exactly fifteen minutes left to get there with Benji in one piece. Please move."

"The mission is to bring down the Syndicate," Luther reminded her. "If Lane gets his hands on that money, you're unleashing a terrorist superpower."

"I won't let him leave, I can promise you that," Skye said fiercely.

Brandt took Luther's vacated seat at the computer. His glance grazed the dark-haired woman, apparently asleep under the soft blanket. They would have to bring her back as soon as possible, or this would end in even more trouble. "If you go there, he could just kill both of you. And if you give him that disc..."

"I'll _catch_ him," Skye interrupted the analyst. She couldn't believe that they were starting a discussion now of all times. They had the disc, they were so close.

"And how are you gonna do that, kid, you wanna trap him in a glass box?"

"I'm not in the mood for jokes, Luther," Skye growled. She took her coat from the back seat and put it on over the black-and-white dress. "I'm going to get Benji out of there and then we will see about the rest."

Luther sighed, distress clear on his face. He knew it was pointless arguing with her now. And to an extent she was right.

Skye checked her watch, tried to sound reasonable. "Once he's safe I'm gonna go after Lane. But one thing at a time."

"You didn't see what I just saw." He motioned at the computer. "That is a hell lot of money, you don't wanna imagine the things he could do with that."

"So you're saying we should let Benji die," Skye accused him.

"I'm saying we should consider this."

She looked at Luther. Long and hard. Then her face softened. "All right," she seemed to give in.

Luther put a hand on her shoulder, trying to articulate gratefulness, but the next second he had a knee in his stomach. While he slumped forwards, out of the van and onto tarmac, Holt shoved Brandt into the door of the van, dodging his reflexive response and instead landing a punch in his face. She yanked the drive out of the computer and ran back to the car. Tires screeched.

The two men looked after her as she sped around a corner. Brandt rubbed his jaw where she had hit him.

"Shit," he said without allowing much emotion into his voice.

Luther still looked after her. "Good luck, kid," he murmured quietly.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You have some nerve showing up here."

Faust knew the man who opened the door for her. He was one of Lane's favourite bouncers. She knew he could fight. She also knew his weak spots.

"I have something he lost," she replied coldly, and side-stepped so that the man could see what was behind her.

Ethan Hunt lay curled up on the ground, breathing heavily, apparently thoroughly out of it. His eyes widened before he composed himself. "Well, ain't this something..."

"Help me to get him inside, I had to drag him along half of Embankment already. But be careful, he bites."

The man grinned, left his position at the door and bent down to get a grip on Hunt. It was the last thing he ever did, because the agent's arm shot forward and punched him in the throat. The man sagged to his knees and felt a pair of legs go around him. Then everything went dark for him and stayed that way.

Ethan hauled him inside and dumped him in a corner while Ilsa closed the door.

"There are at least two more security guards stationed between us and Lane. He should be upstairs. You can't miss it."

"This trick is bound to work again, that gives us an advantage."

Ilsa shook her head. "I'm not coming with you. From here on, you're on your own."

Ethan understood. She didn't want to go back. She wouldn't go back. She wanted to be free and she deserved it. He nodded, and wanted to say something, but she was faster.

Without warning she moved closer and hugged him briefly. "Good luck," she whispered into his ear. "You have everything you need to find me."

The next moment Ilsa Faust was gone.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The weight of the gun against her heart felt reassuring. This was gonna work. It had to. Skye approached the café carefully. Tower Bridge loomed behind her, illuminated against the dark of the night. She felt for the flashdrive in her jacket pocket when she saw Benji. He was at a table near her along with Vinter, two glasses of red wine untouched between them. The agent saw four additional men posted around her, doing their least to stay inconspicuous. She recognised one of them from Vienna. Skye walked over and stopped next to Benji, who stared stiffly straight ahead.

"Benji..." Her voice was quieter than intended.

He looked up at her. "This is the end, Miss Holt."

A cold shiver went over Skye's back. Benji's voice sounded so strange, slightly trembling and at the same time utterly cold and emotionless. She saw the plug in his ear, and when she stepped closer and narrowed her eyes, she recognised the camera contact lens. It was obscuring the small spot in Benji's right eye. Skye understood. For now, this wasn't Benji she was looking at. It was Lane.

Benji swallowed, and she reached out to him.

"Careful there," Vinter sneered, cleaning his fingernails with a huge knife, apparently not caring about whether anyone would see this.

Skye lifted the coat Benji was wearing over his own clothes and understood. The countdown had already started, just hitting the three minute mark.

 _Don't touch him,_ an old familiar voice rung through her mind unexpectedly. _Pressure can activate it prematurely and then you're both screwed._

For a fleeting second Skye wished Connor were actually here. He could defuse this thing within a minute, she had seen him do it, but she was on her own. She could still do this. She had to. There was too much at stake. Lane had messed with the wrong people.

"Two pounds of semtex," Benji now said, his voice still trembling. "Five hundred thirty calibre ball bearings. Your friend is sitting on a highly sensitive pressure trigger, so no sudden m-moves."

 _Told you._

Vinter cleared his throat obnoxiously. "Once the boss got what he wants, I kill both of you." The light caught on the blade and blinded Skye. "If not..." He motioned at the bomb, then around them at the lively café.

"No time to think, Skye." Her name suddenly sounded strange despite coming from Benji. "Have a seat, please."

Never losing her pokerface, she sat down opposite him, trying to ignore the fear in his eyes as well as the bomb around his chest.

"Where is Ethan Hunt?"

"I told you there would be nothing left of him if I find him first. It's not my problem if you can't keep up," Skye said coldly.

Benji's eyes widened in horror at her words, but she forced herself to ignore it.

"Let's be honest," she continued and leaned forward. "It's not Hunt you're after. You're too cold for personal vendettas. This is about the money, and I have it."

There was a pause before Benji passed on Lane's words. "Where is the disc?"

"This disc?" Skye asked, holding up the silvery flashdrive. Vinter reached for it, but she pulled it back. "Let him go and it's yours."

"Give him the disc," Lane demanded via Benji.

"First you let Benji go," Holt decided. "Then I give you the disc. This is between you and me now, Lane. He has nothing to do with it."

"How do I know it's the actual disc?"

"You'll have to trust me," Skye replied. She leaned forward, forcing herself not to be distracted by Benji's face. "Or you let us blow up. The disc is destroyed. You get nothing and you lose your leverage as well as the only person left to bargain with. Is that a risk you're willing to take?"

Holt stood her ground as she waited for an answer, but for what seemed like an eternity nothing happened. The countdown continued mercilessly. Skye felt sweat on her temples despite the cold. She had to provoke him further into taking action.

"No time to think, Lane."

This had to work. She couldn't afford to lose. She wouldn't lose anyone ever again, she had promised herself she wouldn't let it come to that. She wouldn't fail again.

The countdown hit three seconds.

Benji looked at her. Really looked at her. She saw tears. Her heart was beating so fast that it hurt.

The countdown hit two.

A change went over Benji's features. Like he heard something. Lane wouldn't be so cruel to sneer at their last seconds together, would he? Who was she kidding. Of course he would.

The countdown hit one.


	15. Chapter 15

Carefully Ethan opened the office door and snuck inside. His target was right there in front of him, in the middle of the clean light room, exactly where he was supposed to be. Lane stared through the large windows over the Thames and at the computer screen in front of him in turn, hands clasped behind his back.

Once Ilsa had gotten him inside, finishing the security guards had been a breeze. The two of them working together had been a lethal combination. Now he only had to knock out Lane -

Ethan stopped in mid-movement, his gun with the tranquillizer darts already raised, when his eyes grazed the screen behind Lane. It was a video feed showing Skye in a strange slightly shaky close-up, in a corner a timer was counting down steadily.

"Two pounds of semtex," Lane rasped. "Five hundred thirty calibre ball bearings. Your friend is sitting on a highly sensitive pressure trigger..."

A cold shiver ran down Ethan's spine when he leaned back against the wall for a second. He didn't know who this 'friend' was, but considering Skye was there the options were very limited and none of them was good.

"Where is Ethan Hunt?" Lane demanded, arms still behind his back.

I'm right here, Ethan wanted to shout. Wanted to knock him out right there. But from where he was standing he couldn't tell, how the explosive device was controlled. There had to be some kind of remote trigger and deactivation mechanism, but it could be wired to the computer or it could be a stand-alone system. He wouldn't have the time to figure it out on the go. He would have to wait until Lane deactivated it himself. Hunt looked back around the corner

"Where is the disc?" Lane asked harshly.

'This disc?' he read Skye's lips. There was no sound, apparently it was exclusive to Lane's headset.

Ethan straightened when he saw Skye holding the flashdrive. Had they really unlocked the disc? Or was she playing an elaborate game of poker? He wouldn't put either option beyond her.

Anxiously he watched her face talk silently. From where he was hiding it was hard to read her lips, but when she was speaking slowly he could make out the words. 'Let Benji go.'

Benji. He felt a stab of guilt. He should have stayed with his team, then none of this would have happened. At least he was here now, but he felt helpless, unable to do anything before Lane deactivated the bomb first. And the countdown was coming dangerously close to zero. What if he didn't...?

'Or you let us blow up. The disc is destroyed. You get nothing and you lose your leverage as well as the only person left to bargain with. Is that a risk you're willing to take?'

Ethan quickly ducked into the corner when Lane turned around sharply. There wasn't much space but he hadn't been seen. Ethan saw Lane's eyes twitch dangerously. He was boiling with fury. But almost immediately the man returned to his computer. He stabbed a key.

The countdown stopped.

Ethan pulled the trigger.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Point one nine seconds. That was how close they had come. Benji let out a shaky breath of relief. The countdown had stopped. They were still alive. So now what?

He looked at Skye, at Vinter, both waiting for further instructions, then back at the countdown to make sure it had stopped for good.

Then he heard a voice in his ear. But it wasn't Lane.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Lane collapsed over his desk, almost taking his computer down with him. Before he hit the floor, Ethan had already covered the few meters distance. He ripped the headset off the other man's ear with little care.

"Hunt," Lane hissed with slow recognition from the floor.

"The deactivation code," Ethan demanded. In reply he got a disgusted glance, but the drug did its work.

Lane swallowed, but had no choice. The drug was already working. "One, three, nine..."

Ethan repeated the code into the headset, quickly but clearly. Then he added: "Benji, it's me. Don't worry about Lane."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Involuntarily Benji's mouth formed a word before he stopped himself, but Skye could have sworn it was a name. Out of the corner of her eye she could see movement to her right, but Benji's reaction had warned her. While he frantically typed in the code, her elbow smashed into Vinter's nose. Their chairs toppled backwards, some of the other patrons shouted in annoyance at the disturbance, but when they saw the knife catching the light it turned into panicked screams. Skye dodged his next attack and the knife's tip lodged itself into the table. Red wine spilled like blood over the white table cloth.

Benji had wrapped the vest into the coat they had given him, just to be safe. He saw the two other henchmen approaching them quickly. "Look out!"

Skye followed his shout, saw the approaching threats. She jumped onto her chair to gain an advantage in height and rammed her elbow into the back of Vinter's neck. In the same motion she reached into her inside jacket pocket and retrieved her gun. She fired twice, solidifying the panic of the other patrons around them for good. Now it was just a matter of minutes until police showed up.

"Run!"

It wouldn't have needed Benji's shout, the two of them took off at top speed, followed by Lane's men.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was true that Ilsa hadn't wanted to face Lane again. As a matter of fact, she never wanted to see him ever again, and part of her just wanted to trust Ethan to take care of him. And if not... well, she had done her part. She had given everything she had and she knew it. She was done. Except for one last thing.

Janik Vinter, the man who had helped make life hell for the past two years. That was something she could not leave to anyone else. And she knew exactly where he would be. She was in place long before things escalated and watched as the fight started and Holt fired the first shots.

Ilsa Faust followed them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Skye had made two mistakes. One was running off blindly, without a planned escape route. There just hadn't been enough time, and she had been hoping to lose them in the smaller streets a little off from Embankment. Now they were in a dead-end street, terminating in a wall too high to scale, and they already heard the heavy footsteps.

The second mistake was that she had miscounted. They only had the one gun. And it was out of bullets. Skye swallowed. She had been so close to getting him out of there. She looked up at Benji, shook her head and showed him the empty magazine. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Vinter found them first. He had stocked up – the knife was still in his hand, but now he had a gun as well. He sneered at them. "Nice try."

Benji pushed himself in front of Skye in a pointless attempt to cover her. She reached for his hand.

Vinter loaded the bullet into the chamber. It echoed a little.

And then a shadow was on top of him and rammed his own knife into his chest before he could react. His gun clattered to the ground and the shot came loose, firing into the wall. Benji and Skye ducked reflexively. When they looked up again, Vinter was dead on the ground. They were alone.

They hugged each other like there was no tomorrow.


	16. Chapter 16

Brandt didn't turn on the lights when he poured himself a drink. His thoughts kept spinning round what had happened just a few hours ago. The fact that if Ethan hadn't been there after all, and Skye had listened to him, Benji might have died. And if he was completely honest with himself, there had been a moment when he had given up. He held the cool glass to his jaw, soothing the pain of Skye's punch. He felt like he deserved it. Despite her methods being nothing short of crazy, at least she had done something, contrary to him.

"Oh," someone said behind him. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be up..."

Brandt turned to Benji. "Couldn't sleep."

Despite everything, Benji had to grin. Brandt passed him his glass and poured himself a new one. They drank in silence, felt the alcohol work its way through their bloodstream, and suddenly Brandt had to chuckle.

"What?" Benji asked.

"Last time we did this we watched _Pacific Rim_."

Benji chuckled too. "And were working for the CIA."

Brandt nodded. Nothing was settled yet in that regard, there had been too much to do after Ethan had called him about having a tied up and drugged Solomon Lane in custody, but he felt that things were bound to change.

"What's with the CIA?"

"Jesus, Ethan," Benji exhaled after he was done flinching. "Don't do that."

"Force of habit," Ethan apologised and joined them.

They waited for someone to say something, but it took a while. Somehow sitting in silence had something comforting about it too. They were safe, and they were together, and they were still a team.

"I'm sorry for leaving you guys," Ethan finally spoke up.

"Bit of a heads-up would have been good," Brandt couldn't help himself and downed his drink.

Ethan looked at the floor. "I couldn't see another way..."

Benji looked like he had his own thoughts to fight. He emptied his glass as well. "It worked, didn't it," he said tonelessly. The memory of throwing the bundle composed of a coat and an explosive vest into the Thames came up. That had only been a few hours ago.

Ethan scrutinised his friend. "You okay?"

Benji shrugged, then grinned sheepishly. "I'm alive."

Luther stopped short in the door way when he saw the three men. "And what are you all up to sitting in the dark?" he asked.

"Scotch is on the table," Brandt said helpfully.

Luther sighed, but joined them. "This is gonna be one huge mess to sort out, I can tell you that."

Brandt felt his frown return, but also a smile. A strange mixture he hadn't had in a while. "Did you see Hunley's face when we told him?"

"What are we gonna do about him?" Ethan asked.

The analyst looked at him. "I have an idea, but you're not gonna like it."

"Let's save that one for tomorrow," Luther said, then flinched when the lights were turned on abruptly.

All of them turned around.

Skye looked just as startled to see all of them out of their beds. She blinked. "I couldn't sleep..." she began an explanation, looked at Benji.

"Join the club," Luther said and waved her over.

"I meant to apologise," she said to Ethan, taking a seat between him and Benji.

"Why?" he asked surprised.

"I said some mean things about you earlier."

Ethan smirked. "I think we're good."

"And we may have led the Prime Minister to believe that you're after him," Brandt added quickly.

Benji stared at him.

"Where's my apology?" Luther asked her. "You kicked me into the sidewalk."

Benji's stare shifted to Skye her. "You what?"

"I'm sorry," she said meekly.

Brandt turned his palm upwards and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

The woman sighed. "All right, I'm sorry for punching everyone. "

"I think I'm still missing some parts of the story," Benji said.

And since none of them felt like they could sleep soon anyway, they refilled their glasses and filled each other in. As a team.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Once again, I want to thank all of you for reading. I can't put into words what the support on this one means to me. Also it still blows my mind that someone other than me ships Skyjamin. Mange tak._

 _Next mission launches on Friday._


End file.
